


Inheritance

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Body Worship, Established Relationship, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Season 8, re-established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:12:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out Bobby left behind a whole lot more than a flask and a few crates of books.  Sam and Dean deal with the aftermath of what Bobby’s left for them to inherit and try to reconnect post-Purgatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Spoilers for season 8, set after 8.06-“Southern Comfort”, an excessive amount of schmoop
> 
> Author Note: I own nothing but these little ol’ words. Written for the wincest-bigbang, thanks mods this was fun! Giant thanks to my betas stella-lost and vyperdd this fic wouldn't have made it this far without you both! Just in case you want to try it yourself, the Five Fold Kiss Body Blessing is based on [on this](http://lovetalk.org/2010/08/body-blessings-sacred-rituals-to-arouse-and-heal/).
> 
> [Art Masterpost is here](http://dumblemop.livejournal.com/96120.html): Thank you so much for your awesome art for this story disreputabledog, it all looks so great on the page.

One of the things Sam didn’t do in his year off from hunting was take time to check their old P.O. boxes around the country.  And on a swing through Portage, Indiana, Dean thinks to stop and see if there’s anything waiting for them.

“So you didn’t even check the one in Texas while you were living there?”  Dean asks, still unable to hide that he just can’t believe his brother took a pass on managing any of the details of their former hunting life while he was gone.

“No, I already told you that.  Who was there left to send me anything, huh? No one Dean, there was nobody, you were all gone. All dead as far as I knew! And you weren’t here doing the credit card scam thing anymore, so what was the point of keeping up with all the damn p.o. boxes?” Sam is so irritated with Dean he’s considering just jumping out of the car once they finally get off the freeway.  Hearing his brother go on and on about all the stuff he let slide reminds him of what a complete failure at life he really is.  He hates that, not being able to live up to what Dean expects. Sam wonders if this is how Dean felt when he didn’t measure up to their father’s expectations.

“Good thing I paid for three years on these boxes then,” Dean says, just stating facts, but in a way that he knows will provoke Sam.

“Like there’s going to be anything in there other than junk mail and your _Busty Asian Beauties_ back issues.”

“Well, that alone is worth stopping for in my opinion,” Dean retorts with a sharp tone that ends that conversation.

Sam doesn’t say anything after that, just shuts up and looks out the window at the Chicago skyline passing them by.  Wishing that just for once they could stop and do something here, go to one of the big museums, or see a Sox game, but no of course not, Dean’s on a mission. Heading over the bridge towards Indiana he sees all the boats moving on the Calumet River, and wonders if they’d mind another crewmember dropping in suddenly. _Just take me anywhere, just take me away._

“Hey, snap out of it, you’re navigating.  Which exit do I take?”  Dean asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Sam scrambles to unfold the map, “Uh, the second Portage exit.”

“I always forget how damn green it is around here,” Dean says, hoping to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah not much in the way of open fields or deserts,” Sam replies, now glad that Dean’s talking to him at least, and not yelling at him about what an awful brother or hunter he is. That was more than enough silence for one day.

“Wonder if that gun store is still near the post office? Remember that awesome knife I bought that had the eagles carved in the handle?” Dean muses, wishing he still had that knife and hadn’t left it in the body of some monster thousands of miles and several years ago.

“Was it Well-Armed Harry’s or Lucky Louie’s?” Sam snarks, pointing up ahead where the post office is hidden at the back of a strip mall.

“Ha-ha, I’m dying over here,” Dean answers, turning into the parking lot, glad to hear Sam at least joking with him.

Dean parks between the post office and the gun store, and waits for Sam to scramble through the messy glove box for the right key for this P.O. Box.  They both get out of the car, stretching just enough to unkink their cramped muscles. Sam hands Dean the key so he can go get the mail, while Sam heads off into the convenience store for a couple of sodas.  He gets back first and leans up against his side of the car’s fender, waiting for Dean to come back with their mail.  Dean comes back soon and goes through it sitting on the other fender of the Impala.  At the bottom of the stack of junk mail, underneath Dean’s porn mags in their brown paper covers, and a final notice for renewal of the post office box, there is a thick manila envelope addressed to both of them, with the return address of:

**Law Offices,**

**Decker & Sons,**

**Sioux Falls, SD, 57192**

Dean hands the manila envelope across the Impala’s hood to Sam without a word.  He’s not sure why he should be so terrified of what’s in this non-descript envelope, but he is, and it’s damn well Sam’s turn to be scared, Dean’s done it enough for the past year in Purgatory.

Sam puts down his soda, takes the envelope and opens it slowly without looking at Dean, feeling like this is possibly going to be worse than hearing those increasingly desperate and hopeless messages from Kevin the Prophet.  The guilt weighing him down is heavier than carrying Dean in from the car when he’s too drunk to walk, or bleeding too hard anywhere below the waist.

Sam removes a sheaf of legal documents and scans the cover letter clipped to the front, there are yellow _sign here_ tags sticking off the edges all through the stack of papers.

“It’s about Bobby’s will,” Sam says, a flat edge to his voice.

Dean senses that Sam’s holding back something big and trying not to show any emotion. “And?”

“And according to this, we were supposed to sign this in the presence of a notary or travel to Sioux Falls and sign the documents in person.”

“Why?” Dean asks.

“Bobby left us everything,” Sam answers, sounding overwhelmed and terribly sad.

“Everything?” Dean asks, confused that there is an ‘everything’ that Bobby could have left them.

“Yeah,” Sam answers, voice still flat.

“Was there a time limit on it?” Dean asks, assuming that they’ve probably already missed some arbitrary deadline because Sam didn’t come pick up the damn mail.

Sam bristles at the implied judgment in his brother’s question. “Maybe, doesn’t say, this letter is dated six months ago.”

“There a phone number?” Dean asks, short, clipped-off words showing that he’s making an effort to bite his tongue.

“Yeah, I’ll call, can you unlock the car?  I want to sit and write if I need to,” Sam says, stepping away from Dean and looking off into the distance with unfocused eyes.

“Sure, here.” Dean gets down off the fender and walks around to unlock the passenger side door for Sam.  Before Sam gets in, he hands Dean the soda he got for him without a word.  Dean jumps back up on the fender and keeps staring off across the parking lot, seemingly ignoring what Sam’s saying into his cell phone.  Sam’s voice is going on for a while and then he’s quiet, listening, finally saying goodbye.  Dean takes a few deep breaths to steady himself for what’s coming, either bad news or worse news.  When his brother doesn’t get out of the car to join him, Dean knows it’s of the worse variety. Blowing out his long-held breath he hops down again, and gets in on his side.

“So?” Dean asks, completely dreading the answer.

“Well, we’re cutting it close, but we should be able to sign before the probate window closes,” Sam answers, distracted by thinking about what the lawyer just told him.

“We need to find a notary or something?” Dean prompts, needing to have a little more to go on to know which direction to point the Impala.

“No, they said it’d be better if we just came there. So start driving back the other way.”

“Oh joy, Sioux Falls here we come,” Dean says with all the dead-level sarcasm he’s been saving up for the last week.

“If you’re going to be like that the whole way, I’d rather you drop me off at the airport in Chicago,” Sam retorts, not sure he can take much more of this attitude from Dean.

Dean shakes his head and an outstretched finger at Sam in a Big No gesture. “No way, if I’m going to Sioux Falls, you’re along for the ride buddy boy.”

“Fine.  Just cool it with the damn sarcasm, I’m sick of it already,” Sam says with crossed arms and a closed off expression.

“Fine,” Dean responds, just able to stop himself from continuing to argue.

After a few minutes of uninterrupted silence, Sam blurts out. “Don’t you wanna know what’s in it?”

“In what?” Dean asks, looking over at his brother to see if he’s holding something in his hands for Dean to look in.

“In Bobby’s estate,” Sam replies, staring out the windshield without really seeing anything.

“Hold on, Bobby has an estate? Isn’t that for rich people?” Dean splutters in surprise.

“Yeah, I was surprised too, didn’t think he had the assets that required one, turns out we’re very wrong about that.”

“How wrong?” Dean asks.

“After taxes, about five hundred grand,” Sam answers, trying to hold back the awe he’s feeling at the idea of all this money being available to them all of a sudden.

“Five hundred grand?” Dean whistles in admiration.

Sam grins over at him, wanting to see Dean’s reaction. “Each.”

Dean slaps the steering wheel in surprise and maybe some actual happiness. “I’ll be damned! Bobby was holdin’ out on us.”

“I don’t know, I never talked to him about money or legal stuff, did you?” Sam asks.

“No, not really.  He tried to show me how to balance a checkbook a long time ago, like I’d ever have one, but that’s about it.”

Sam turns his whole body towards his brother so that he doesn’t miss any of Dean’s reactions. “Dean, you know what this means right?”

 Dean’s mind is racing with all the possibilities of so much money and he blurts out the first thing that crosses his mind. “You won’t have to take out any loans for college?”

Sam gives him a major bitchface. “I was gonna say, we’ve got a million bucks.”

“We?” Dean asks, wondering if Sam used the wrong pronoun, or if he really meant it, because that could be a good thing. Right?

Sam doesn’t answer that loaded question, just puts his sunglasses on and shifts his body away from Dean so he’s looking out the passenger side window.  He hears Dean shuffling around in the cassette box and dreads what’s going to be blaring out of the speakers.  When Bob Dylan starts singing about how _a hard rains a gonna fall_ , Sam lets his tears start leaking out slowly.  He’d forgotten how his brother always knows what tape to play for him, he hopes Dean doesn’t see that he’s crying, couldn’t put up with the teasing about something like this.  Eventually he falls asleep just as “Blowin’ In the Wind” starts up.

Of course Dean knows Sam is crying, Dylan usually does the trick for him when he needs to get some of that emotion out; he hasn’t forgotten everything about taking care of Sam in his year away.  There’s a part of him that wishes he could just pull over and cry right along with his brother.  Going back to Sioux Falls after all this time is going to be hard, a reminder of everything they’re missing right now.  It’s not like that promise he’d made to never go back to Lawrence (and look how that turned out), but it’s pretty damn close.  He grits his teeth against the unwanted swell of emotion surging up deep in his chest and steps on the gas pedal, pushing the Impala up to 80.  At this rate, it’s still going to take 9 hours and he can’t do it, not feeling like this.  So they’ll have to stop for the night somewhere, and Sam’s going to want to talk, which Dean dreads like nothing else.  The way things have been going lately, they might as well just start out throwing punches.

Sam was asleep or feigning sleep for more than four hours, but then he was awake.  And not talking. Specifically not talking to Dean.  Dean could feel the tension level rising as the miles flew under them.  Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled off the highway into the small town of Dakota, Minnesota.  There was a little place with cabins that looked out on the Mississippi River that didn’t look too bad.

“I’ll get us a room,” Sam says, jumping out of the car just before it actually stops.

Dean puts his head down on the steering wheel, willing the tension headache that’s threatening to explode into a migraine to just go away and leave him alone.  Hearing Sam approach he gets out and opens the trunk, pulling out their duffels.  Without a word to each other they’re ensconced in the surprisingly unequipped little cabin quickly, stretched out on their beds, both just looking at the dusky, stained ceiling because there’s not even a TV to pretend to be watching.

Eventually Sam breaks the uncomfortable silence. “I figured you’d be going out to a bar or something tonight.”

“Have I done that even once since I’ve been back?” Dean says, the words coming out sound way more pissy than he feels, but still, Sam has no right.

Sam turns his head on his pillow so he can see his brother, stretched out but still tense, always tense, and so far away on the other bed. “No, I know that, I just thought…”

Dean sits up halfway, propping himself up on his elbows, and glaring at Sam. “What? You thought that would be my usual reaction to the silent treatment from you?”

Seeing how pissed off Dean is surprises Sam. “Yeah, it always was.  Whatever.  Just, can we not do this right now?”

“What? Talk about what’s really going on here? How you’re guilty for not taking care of this six months ago when you should have?” Dean demands, the words coming out harsh and clipped like they’ve been trimmed to their sharpest points before landing in Sam’s ears.

Sam struggles to not answer this provocation, as easy as it would be to take up this week’s long battle, it’s just not in him to fight with Dean tonight. “No, that’s not what’s really going on here, we’re both upset about going back to Sioux Falls. Yeah maybe you think I should feel guilty, and I do a little, but we’ve got to deal with this now.  And call me selfish, but I’m glad you’re here to do it with me.  I’m glad I didn’t have to handle it alone, because I couldn’t have. Not with you gone too.”

Dean’s surprised by how much this small admission from Sam affects him. It’s the first time he’s really believed Sam is glad that he’s back.  Everything has been so guarded and strange between them, so much left unsaid, the wrong things assumed.  Dean’s been feeling like he’s walking through a dark room blindfolded trying to find his way back to Sam who’s maybe not even in the same room anymore. But yeah, he’s glad he’s here to handle this Bobby thing with Sam instead of his brother having had to do it on his own.

“I am too,” Dean admits.

Sam sees that something big has shifted and he relaxes a little. “Can we get something to eat? I’m starved.”

“Yeah, me too. I saw a small place a couple blocks back up the river,” Dean answers.

“You wanna walk?  I’d like to stretch my legs after being in the car,” Sam asks.  Dean grunts his assent, grabbing his jacket and heading out of the cabin, Sam following close behind without further comment.

The sun’s almost down so it’s that in-between time when the light is so pretty out you feel like you’re in a cheesy Thomas Kinkade oil painting.  They don’t talk as they walk along the river but this time, there’s no silent treatment going on, just the easy silence of well-worn-in companionship.

The little place is still open, something like their usual diner, but a little nicer somehow.  It turns out their specialty is great chicken pot pies, which they both order and enjoy, all warm and gooey and savory, washed down with a couple beers each.

They start telling Bobby stories over dinner and walk back in the dark, admiring the moon shining on the big river.  It’s not too cold out so they stop to look at it before going back up the hill into their cabin for the night.

“You ever wish you had been a river boat worker?” Dean asks as they watch the barges float past all lit-up like they’re ready for Christmas.

“I was just thinking that today back in Chicago,” Sam laughs, delighted with how synchronous they still are no matter how much they’re at odds.

“I could just see you hauling ropes and fixing stuff all day, right,” Dean scoffs dismissively while enjoying getting to hear Sam laugh.

“Hey, I can fix stuff,” Sam retorts, slightly offended that Dean still thinks he’s incompetent.

“Since when?” Dean challenges in that ingrained big-brother-knows-all voice he knows bugs Sam the most.

Sam grins when he hears Dean trying to get a rise out of him. “While you were gone, I was a handyman for a while, got pretty good at it too.”

“Huh.” Dean reaches down to grab a stone and chucks it hard into the river. He hadn’t gotten around to thinking about what Sam had done for work, he’d just been stuck on Sam not looking for him.

The disappearing ripples lull Sam into wanting to continue the conversation from earlier. “Dean, you ever think Bobby would do this?”

“What? Leave us all his money that we didn’t even know about? No.”

“Just, it seems like that’s something you do for your kids, and he didn’t have any.  We didn’t talk about it, but I guess he really did think about us that way,” Sam says.

“Yeah, I figured it was like that for him.  Know it was for me,” Dean agrees, leaning over to pick up another rock, which also conveniently hides his expression from Sam. “Sometimes, when I was little, I pretended he was our real dad.”

“Me too,” Sam agrees, watching Dean straighten up from his avoidance ploy.

“I wish….”Dean trails off quietly, his head turning away from Sam.

“What?” Sam asks.

“Just wish I’d told him that at some point, you know? Like out loud,” Dean says, head bowed, turning the rock over and over again in his hand.

Sam wishes more than anything he could just reach out and touch him, he’s dying for the comfort of his brother’s arms and he’s betting Dean is too, but it’s probably too much too soon. “Yeah, I do too. There’s a lot of things like that we probably never say but we should.”

“You mean like to each other?” Dean asks, throwing his rock out across the water, watching it skip three times and disappear.

“Uh huh.  I thought about that a lot while you were gone,” Sam admits quietly.

“Like what Sammy?” Dean asks, turning to finally look up and meet Sam’s eyes.

Just based on hearing his nickname and seeing the look in Dean’s eyes, Sam realizes that yes, Dean really does want to hear this, maybe even needs to hear this, right here, right now; Sam decides to tell him. “Like I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told you that I love you or how you mean everything to me.  I used to lie there at night going through all my memories of the last year and I just couldn’t remember saying it…and you were just gone and I didn’t know where, and nothing made sense anymore without you,” Sam trails off, feeling frustrated that he’s not expressing this very clearly.  He realizes how desperate he is for Dean to understand this.

“Yeah, I know, I know. I thought the same stuff when I was in Purgatory,” Dean admits, looking down at the riverbank studiously, not willing to meet Sam’s eyes when he’s so embarrassed.

“Dean, why don’t we say this stuff to each other while we can? While we’re still both alive and here?  I’m serious,” Sam asks, throwing his arms out wide in a frustrated gesture, sounding a little too close to the edge of desperate, enough so that Dean looks up at him and sees that Sam isn’t kidding, he means it.  He hasn’t seen this much emotion on Sam’s face since their reunion when he first got back from Purgatory.

Dean takes a moment to seriously consider Sam’s question and answers honestly. “Don’t know Sammy, just the way we were raised or something I guess. All that ‘showing emotion is weakness crap’ ”

“Could we change that, maybe just a little?” Sam pleads.

“What you want permission to tell me you love me all the time?” Dean asks with more sarcasm than he really feels.

“Pretty much,” Sam answers, grinning that beautiful one-sided grin that always instantly kills Dean.

“You’re gonna do it whether or not I say yes aren’t you?” Dean grumbles, secretly pleased beyond measure, but of course he can’t say anything.

“Pretty much,” Sam repeats, still grinning, his eyes twinkling now with mischief.

Dean smiles, feeling so loved up he’s almost forgetting all the hurt and pain that he’s been carrying around about Sam not looking for him. But there’s one thing he needs to know, and maybe since Sam is finally talking, he’ll actually spill on this. “You really didn’t look for me?”

“Actually I did, but not for as long as I know I should have.  I summoned Crowley, called Missouri Mosely, even went to Louisiana with Garth to talk to one of the Voudon queens. But there wasn’t much point, I couldn’t even figure out where you were Dean,” Sam confesses, all in one hurried breathless moment.

Dean looks up at him, incredulous surprise plain on his face. “Why didn’t you just tell me that? All this time I’ve been thinking you walked out of that Sucrocorp lab, jumped in the Impala and just drove until you hit the dog.”

“Guess I was feeling like a fuck-up. It wasn’t a good time for me.  My world kind of imploded because I couldn’t find you.  I pretty much had to assume that you were dead. Again.”  Sam goes silent, his breath stopping as he waits to hear if Dean’s going to respond.  Not hearing anything he takes a deep breath and continues. “I was in a real dark place, I’m lucky I found Amelia when I did, I probably wouldn’t even be alive.  I figured I wasn’t of any use to you or anyone else as far as hunting went since I couldn’t even find you. That’s why I stopped hunting.  I had to stay alive just in case you somehow came back.”

Dean’s mind is racing, filling in all the blanks that hadn’t made any sense all this time, his hurt at being abandoned disappearing as he accepts what Sam’s finally told him. “I knew it was something like that. God!  Sam do you have any idea how this has been making me feel?”

“I know you’re mad, obviously, but no, I don’t, not really, you haven’t exactly been talking much. Can you maybe tell me now?” Sam asks a little timidly, realizing just now that maybe he should have said something about all this earlier.

“I didn’t think you were all that happy that I was back.  I didn’t know that it affected you all that much that I was gone.  And I couldn’t understand why you didn’t look for me at all.  It just didn’t make sense to me.  I figured that you were mad that I screwed up your new life with your girl that you’d made for yourself.” Dean answers.

“Of course I’m happy that you’re back! I thought you were dead Dean!” Sam shouts, throwing his arms out and waving wildly for emphasis.  He brings them in and hugs himself lightly like he’s got a pain in his ribs. “I didn’t mean to hurt you by not telling you.  I really didn’t.  It just seemed like you’d blow it off as my lame excuses.  God I fuck everything up, every time.  I’m sorry Dean, I really am.  And you didn’t screw up anything, there wasn’t anything in the first place with her for you to screw up.”

Dean sees Sam slump into himself in sorrow and suddenly he can see his way around his own mountain of hurt and betrayal to needing to help Sam, he steps close and pulls him into a light one-armed hug. “I guess I should have said something too.”

Sam leans into him for a second, relishing the closeness and maybe even forgiveness in this small touch. “Yeah, I wish you had.  We both should have. Next time?” Sam asks, sounding so heartbreakingly open and hopeful that Dean can’t help but smile and slap him on the back.

Dean turns to go back up the riverbank towards their cabin and answers over his shoulder. “Not gonna be a next time, not going anywhere again Sammy.”

Sam follows him up the hill with his eyes until he disappears into the dark. He turns back to look at the fast-moving river with eyes that are full of tears. He doesn’t let himself give in and cry though, time’s long past for that, now he has some hope that he and Dean can work this out between them. There’s going to be so much that changes in their lives because of this inheritance from Bobby, hopefully most of those changes for the good. _I’d give up all that money though in a heartbeat, just to have Dean back with me like we used to be_ , Sam swears to himself.

~!~!~!~!~!

Along with the reading of the will at the lawyer’s office in Sioux Falls, they are also presented with an envelope each that contains a hand-written letter from Bobby.  They take them back to the quiet, out of the way place on the dark tree-lined street they’d parked the Impala on to read privately.  As part of some unspoken agreement they don’t talk while they’re reading their letters.  But seeing what’s written in them shakes both of them to the core.

In each of the letters Bobby has acknowledged, albeit obliquely, that he knew about their relationship being more than just brotherly.  He expresses his gratefulness and regard that their unconventional love ended up saving the whole world from the Apocalypse.  Bobby, in a roundabout way, advises each of them to push the other to start thinking about their future, working out a place to settle down, at least for a home base.  It’s very clear that he was expecting them to end up staying together for the rest of their lives.  But mostly the letters just tell them how much Bobby loved them and how he was as proud of them as if they’d been his own flesh and blood sons. He says he expects them to give him a hunter’s funeral and says he’ll be looking forward to seeing them on the other side but not too soon.

“Well at least we did something right, eventually,” Dean says, referring to the two fiery exits they gave Bobby.

“So he knew. About us.  Did you, uh, ever talk to him?” Sam asks hesitantly.

“No, what? About us, oh hell no, of course not,” Dean answers, shaking his head vehemently.

“Good, uh, I guess.  Would have been a pretty weird conversation,” Sam states, just imagining Bobby’s fond exasperated expression that he misses more than anything.

“Just as well that we didn’t,” Dean says, more than a little sadly.                                                               

“Oh, you mean because we aren’t like that anymore?” Sam answers even more sadly.

“Sam,” Dean pleads, reaching across the divide between them, although measured in the physical distance between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat is small, it somehow seems like the greatest distance he’s ever had to travel.

Sam turns at the sound of his brother’s voice, and feels Dean’s hand land on his thigh, grasping for his hand. Sam holds it tightly as if it’s the only thing holding him tethered to the Earth, it feels like he could be sucked right out of the Impala, spinning away without the gravity of Dean a constant pulling at his core. “Yeah Dean,” Sam says, almost too quietly to really hear.

“Sammy, I don’t want it to be like this anymore,” Dean declares, trying not to sound too horribly desperate even though that’s really how he feels, that if they can’t get this right, like right the hell now, then it’s maybe never going to work between them again.

“Me either.  Feel like I’m dying every day being separate from you like this,” Sam answers with a heartfelt intensity that makes him feel like he’s spent his last quarter at the arcade, with no more chances left.  Take it or leave it, there it all is on the table.

“Then let’s not be,” Dean says simply as he leans in and brushes their lips together.  He feels his brother give way completely under his hands.  A pliant, grateful Sam is not what he wants though.  “c’mon Sammy, not like that.”

Sam gets the idea right away, and pulls Dean in tightly, holding him close, hands roaming over all the places he knows are guaranteed to always work on Dean.  It hasn’t been that long and he hadn’t ever stopped imagining this moment the whole eternity Dean was gone; or for the whole time that Dean’s been back, but out of reach which has felt even longer.

“That’s more like it.” Dean groans as Sam’s hands skim lower down his belly and graze over the head of his jeans-covered cock. Sam’s touches are just what he’s wanted all this time since he’s been back, it’s better than he’d remembered.  Better than he’d obsessed about all that time he was stuck in Purgatory, playing their greatest hits back as he tried to sleep.

“Can you just? Geeze, it hasn’t been that long, don’t you remember how to do this?” Sam barks out, frustrated that Dean isn’t cooperating in getting into the only position they’ve ever found that works in the front seat of the Impala.  And Lord knows they’ve certainly tried them all over the years.  He pushes and pulls at Dean, moving him over and on top of and finally between his spread legs as he reclines partway up the passenger side door, back of his head smashed up against the window in a familiar cold press; he’s impressed that Dean manages to toss the papers from the lawyer and Bobby’s letters up onto the dashboard so they don’t get ruined.

“Fine, whatever, how’s that?”  Dean grins down at him, their hands tangling in the attempt to get their zippers undone in time, before anyone decides to do something foolish like hesitate or change their mind.  The desperation to see this through, to somehow jump back up onto the track with all wheels going the right way is another living breathing thing in the car with them.  They both want this so much that it’s almost too much to wait those few extra seconds it takes to get down to flesh on flesh where they need to be to make it right again. 

Sam puts his palm up to Dean’s mouth, _hmming_ expectantly, waiting for Dean to remember what to do, and of course Dean does, he grins and licks a big sloppy mess up the middle of Sam’s palm.  Sam groans at the soft yet rough feeling of his brother’s tongue, and puts it up to his own mouth adding his own spit.  He then reaches down to enclose both of their cocks together in his saliva-moistened hand.  He starts pulling them off together, stroke by stroke they harden further and further, practically fusing together into one pulsing member.  Sealed back together with all the sticky satisfying mess as they leak together, getting closer and closer. 

Dean is pumping his hips faster and faster into Sam’s hand, the friction on this edge of too much, too much pain and heat, but then it’s the right amount.  Just what he needs, Sam giving it to him just like no time has elapsed, their movements roughly familiar, but there’s still something new.  Dean imagines it’s because there’s this long separation they’ve had, and this uncomfortable time where they’ve been reunited yet not.  Overlaid on that is something new, which is his sharper edge leftover from Purgatory, his inability to ever relax, and Sam’s domesticated and frustrated year without him.  There’s more to it, a desperation to take and give and receive and not have to let go ever again.  So much undecided and undiscussed between them without a chance to stop and think.  Dean can’t think any more about what’s different or why, Sam’s desperate noises take him out of his head so that he’s reduced to an internal chant of _Just now. Take it now._  

“Please Dean, please,” Sam begs, not sure what he’s even asking for, just wanting and needing Dean to give it to him.

Hearing the desperate wanting in his brother’s voice puts Dean even closer to the edge and he finds it within himself to order. “With me Sammy.”  

That voice, that voice of command which Sam doesn’t always want to obey in other situations is exactly what Sam was begging for.  And Dean knew.  He always knows.  So Sam comes, letting loose with a wordless cry, folding himself up off the door, pushing his brother up so high Dean hits his head on the roof of the Impala. But by then Dean’s coming too, all over, adding it to Sam’s mess, and he collapses down on top of Sam heavily.  They lie there panting almost back in sync, heart beats still thundering, galloping off into the sunset together with all their hurt and misunderstandings.

Dean’s face is nestled in the crook of Sam’s neck, just breathing him in as deeply as possible, in case this is the last time.  He doesn’t think so, but who knows with Sam these days.  He finally brings himself to say something.  “That was worth waiting for dude.”

Sam kisses the side of Dean’s head, smiling as he inhales the scent of Dean, which he’s happy to discover still makes his head spin. “I’ll say, it really was, wish we hadn’t taken so long.  Get up off me now though, you’re squashing me.”

Dean grumps and starts moving slowly, first sitting up, hitting his head on the roof like always, reaching over into the glove box for fast-food napkins to clean them off with.  He gently wipes off Sam’s belly and shirt that got kind of soaked as Sam watches his every movement closely.  “You might want a clean shirt.”

“Naw, I’m good with this one,” Sam says, looking down at his ruined shirt with a smile at seeing the evidence of their reunion so plainly.

“What you wanna smell like sex all the way to where we’re goin’?” chuckles Dean.

“Yeah, maybe I do, so what?” challenges Sam, crooking his half smile and daring Dean to say another word.

“Badge of honor huh? Okay, whatever,” Dean gets himself tucked in and buckled up, waiting for Sam to do the same.  They take off into the late morning sun, heading straight out of Sioux City, after one short detour; a slow drive-by of the burned-out ruins of Singer Salvage. There’s nothing to say about that, all the memories they have of the salvage yard are still theirs even if the place is gone.

!!!!!!!!!

They’ve been driving for an hour without saying anything, just listening to a series of classic rock stations that Dean dials in, as one fades away, there’s always another to take its place.  Sam finally decides he better tell Dean the rest of what their new legal counsel advised. “So uh, the lawyer said it would take a while to disburse the funds from Bobby’s estate. At least a few weeks.”

“We have to stick around?”  Dean asks, a little surprised that Sam’s let them drive away from Sioux City if they were supposed to stay.

“I thought we would have to, but no we’ll just have to come back to sign the final papers when all the legal stuff with the will goes through.  By the way, I asked him to go ahead and draw up estates for us, not that the tax laws will be changing any time soon, but it just makes sense with that much money involved.”

“Okay.”  Dean’s not too sure what all that is about, but he’s glad that Sam is handling the paperwork, and the lawyer seemed like he was on the up and up.

Sam takes a deep breath for what he’s worried the most about Dean’s reaction to hearing. “He also told me we should talk about wills and stuff too, so he can do them at the same time as the estate.  We need to let him know details like who we’re leaving our money to when we, you know, actually die for real.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. That’s the easy part.”  This doesn’t seem like an unusual thing to Dean to be thinking about, not with so much money involved now.

“How so?” Sam asks, wondering why Dean’s being so stubbornly obtuse about choosing a beneficiary, it seems like an open question.

“Well, who else do I have? I’m putting you down,” Dean says, looking over at Sam hoping to get a clue from his face when he answers.

“What about Benny?” Sam asks.

“Why in the hell would I do that?” Dean asks, frustrated that Sam would bring Benny up in this conversation.

“You called him brother, seemed like he meant a lot to you,” Sam states, voice gone flat and emotionless.

“Give me a break, what are you planning on putting down Amelia?” Dean jabs at Sam.

“Now, why the hell would I do that?” Sam asks, confused because he’s told Dean several times now that it’s over with her.

“Seemed like she meant a lot to you,” Dean says.

Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah she did, but that’s over now, I told you that.”

“Whatever.  So what’re you going to do with all your money?” Dean asks, hands tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles go white.

Sam’s just glad that the part of the conversation he was dreading seems to be over.  He takes a moment to think and then answers. “I want to buy a house with some land.”

Dean goes very still and watchful, staring straight ahead out the windshield.  Finally he asks carefully. “Can I come visit you sometime at this house?”

“What are you talking about? You’d be living there too,” Sam says, still confused at his brother’s obliviousness.

“Oh,” Dean says quietly, hands releasing their death-grip on the wheel.

“Oh? C’mon Dean, really? You think I’m going to what, go off and live in a house by myself?”

Dean brings one hand off the steering wheel to rub at the back of his neck. “Well, I didn’t know what you meant.”

“See this is what I was talking about before! We never tell each other the important stuff, so you end up assuming the first thing I’d do is leave you or leave all my money to some woman I hardly know or something stupid like that.   Because you never let me tell you what you mean to me.  That would be the last thing I would want Dean, to live somewhere without you,” Sam says, hating the sound of desperation in his voice.

“Really?” Dean asks, a little stunned by Sam’s words.

Sam feels like screaming, that Dean just doesn’t get this, how important this is to him, to both of them. But he says with steel control, “Yeah really.  And the sooner you accept it that I’m not going anywhere, the better off you’ll be. Guess I’ll have to find some way of reminding you that actually works.”

“Like what?” Dean asks, looking at Sam sideways because of that steel tone of voice, _he really means this_ , eyes going back to the road quickly.

“I don’t know! Something you’ll actually remember,” Sam declares throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Fine be mysterious, whatever.  But I like your idea of buying a house somewhere.  **_Together,”_** Dean says with an emphasis on _together_ so that Sam knows that he got it.

“How about we use some of our money traveling?” Sam suggests.

“Like we don’t travel enough already?” Dean asks, confused because he thought the idea of buying a house was to not travel.

“Not hunting _traveling_ , just looking around for where to live _traveling_ , stay in nicer hotels, eat at nicer places, maybe even fly sometimes, that kind of thing.”

“I like all of that except for the flying, but you already knew that didn’t you?” Dean says, looking over at his brother out of the corner of his eye, keeping most of his attention on the road ahead of them.

Sam smiles when he sees Dean looking at him, happy that he was figured out so easily, taking it as a sign that they’re clearing the way between them. “Yeah, but I had to ask.  So what do you say? A Winchester tour of the USA to find our best spot to land.”

Dean nods. “I could get on board with that.”

“Where do you want to start?” Sam asks, voice openly happy, not bothering to reign in how much this is thrilling him that Dean’s into this idea too.

“Well . . .  how about we get a map and strike out the states we don’t really want to bother with and plan it from there,” Dean suggests with another quick glance over at Sam.

“Sounds good. Uh, we stopping anytime soon?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, ‘bout an hour more, thought we’d stop in Madison tonight.  You like that place, it’s a college town right?”

“Madison’s pretty cool, I’ll look up somewhere for us to stay.  And you spend the next hour wondering how I’m going to make you remember I’m not going anywhere.”  Sam wiggles his eyebrows which cracks Dean up and also gets him thinking. There’s a lot of kinky shit in that big Sam brain, who knows what he’ll come up with. He shifts in the driver’s seat, suddenly uncomfortable and more than a little turned-on at the thought of what Sam could do.

“You okay over there Dean?” Sam teases.

Refusing to give in, Dean answers. “Yeah, ‘m fine, you find us a place yet?”

Sam sees it, Dean’s arousal at just the thought of Sam doing something to him and slides over closer so he’s right up in Dean’s space. “You like the idea of being reminded don’t you?” Sam practically purrs.

“Sure, why not?” Dean asks, trying to sound nonchalant, but they both know that Sam’s really got him now.

“You’re going to love it, I promise,” Sam whispers in his ear, pulling Dean’s right hand off the steering wheel and up to his mouth.  He meets his brother’s eyes momentarily then closes his and kisses the soft inside of Dean’s wrist.  The kiss turns into a suckle then into a bite until Dean’s squirming and almost pulling away, gasping a little at the heat he feels deep in his belly, throbbing in time with his pulse risen to the surface at his wrist.  Sam opens his eyes, puts Dean’s hand back on the steering wheel and then slides back over into his seat without another word.

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps driving after that stunt, it’s a good thing they were just on a straight highway. He realizes he feels completely aroused and curious and a little tiny bit fearful of what Sam is promising to do. It probably will be something different, and they’ve pretty much done everything sexual either of them is interested in. _So what could Sam mean?_ He keeps driving, sneaking glances over at Sam, shifting in his seat and rubbing his fingers over the darkening mark on the inside of wrist.

~!~!~!~!~

The place Sam chooses is a bed and breakfast that is on the grounds of an old mansion.  They’re booked into one of the outbuildings which is called a “luxury suite” which cracks Dean up when Sam brings back the ornate brass key. 

“Us in a luxury suite Sammy?” Dean laughs as they unload the car.

“Shut up. Wait ‘til you see it Dean,” Sam slams the trunk down and walks through the small formal garden to the front door of the small house.

The small entry hall opens up onto a cozy sitting room with a fireplace, but the main thing is the bedroom which is dominated by an enormous tester bed.  Four carved wooden posts hold up a canopy of deep red velvet which cascades over behind the headboard.

“Well, I don’t know if Bobby would like us spending his money quite this way Sam,” Dean teases.

“You won’t be thinking about Bobby soon. He wanted us to be comfortable, so get used to it, just for one night anyways.  You go take a bath, I’ll head out and get us some supplies for what I promised you.” Sam grabs Dean’s wrist and brings it to his lips, kissing the dark mark gently and meeting Dean’s eyes.  Without another word he’s out the door with the Impala keys leaving Dean a little confused.

Dean investigates and finds an enormous claw foot tub which takes forever to fill but is heaven to lie and relax in after a day of driving.  He finds himself thinking about Sam’s promise about how Dean won’t be thinking about Bobby and how Sam’s going to find a way to remind him about how Sam’s not going anywhere.  He smiles to himself at the thought of Sam planning something like this, not really liking surprises, but enjoying the anticipation.  It’s been so long since he’s been able to let his guard down, to really relax after that year in Purgatory the instinct to always stay alert is very hard to ignore.  He dozes off in the hot water, replaying the vision of Sam coming undone beneath him earlier in the car, stroking the darkening mark Sam had left on his wrist.

Sam returns soon, and arranges all the supplies he’s gathered and is coming back into the bathroom to check on his brother, just as Dean’s finally getting out of the bath. He’s stopped in his tracks in the doorway at the sight of his freshly washed and very naked brother.  Sam checks his impulse to run over and get his hands all over that luscious glowing skin and instead just slowly looks at Dean from head to toe without saying a word.  A pink flush flows up Dean’s chest to his cheeks, heating them up further.  _Dean’s embarrassed to be looked at?_ Sam thinks to himself.

Dean raises his eyebrows as if to ask. _Why’re you looking at me like that Sam?_

Sam just smiles slow and wide and lets the lust and heat shine through his eyes so Dean can’t miss it.  Dean smiles back as soon as he sees the look Sam’s giving him, instantly comfortable with whatever Sam’s got planned.  He crosses the room so that he’s standing in Sam’s space, right in front of him, the heat of the hot bathtub radiating off of him so that Sam can feel it through his clothes.  Sam leans his head down and brushes his lips gently across Dean’s ear whispering. “Go sit on the bed.”

Walking towards the bed Dean sees that there are black silk cords tied to the four posters and he feels a flutter of anticipation rising up from deep in his belly up into his throat.  They haven’t done anything like this in a long, long time.  Maybe not since the whole apocalypse thing went down.  But he asked for it, so he’s going to just go for it, he trusts Sam completely with this and knows that whatever’s about to happen it will be worth it.  He climbs up and makes himself comfortable in the middle of the turned down bed.

“What no mint on my pillow? You’re slacking off Sam,” Dean teases.

“Don’t think you’ll be wanting a mint Dean,” Sam says seriously, reaching out to push Dean on the center of his chest gently so that he’ll lie down.  He makes quick work out of securing Dean’s wrists and ankles to the four posters with the silken cords. 

Dean doesn’t say anything just watches his brother move efficiently and quickly, feeling a little out of control with how his belly swoops and plummets at the thought of what Sam might have planned for tonight. Even though he trusts Sam with his life, he’s not sure how far Sam is going to go with this whole _‘reminding thing’_.

“I’m not planning on anything too crazy, but you got a safe-word just in case?” Sam asks quietly, hoping Dean’s going to be on-board with what he’s about to do. It’s a real risk, but he knows he needs to take it, and doing it all at once is the only way he can see this working on Dean permanently.

Dean’s eyes widen, and he answers with no hesitation. “Cherry pie.”

“Got it,” Sam acknowledges, standing up and turning away from the bed.

Feeling unaccountably nervous, when Sam’s eyes aren’t on him, Dean asks. “Sam, you gonna fuck me or what?”

Sam’s arranging something on the bedside table that Dean can’t see.  He doesn’t turn around to answer. “We’ll see Dean. It depends.”

“Depends on what?” Dean asks, hating the sound of the whine that’s creeping into his voice.

Sam can tell this is the point where the evening will go one way or the other, so he turns around and looks at Dean closely from head to toe and back again. “Whether you behave yourself tonight or not.”

“Thought you weren’t gonna get crazy tonight,” Dean challenges.

“No, I’m not.  I swear. So to start, first you tell me what you want.”

Dean looks away and mutters. “Just want to get off with you. You know, now that we kind of worked things out earlier.”

“Dean, look at me.  And be specific.  Tell me what you want,” Sam says flatly, staring down at Dean.

Dean glares up at Sam, daring him with his eyes to not follow through. “Blow me, fuck me, the usual.”

Sam cocks his head slightly, seeming to have expected another answer. “You sure. Nothing else?”

With a small shrug of his shoulders, Dean says quietly. “No, it’s uh been a while you know?”

A smile appears on Sam’s face at that one, when he agrees. “Yeah, believe me I know. You didn’t in Purgatory?”

“No, not with anyone else,” Dean answers, shaking his head to emphasize the negative, and so he doesn’t have to keep looking directly into Sam’s eyes, this is starting to get uncomfortable, tied up, lying here waiting for things to start, Sam asking all these damned questions.

Sitting down on the bed so that his jeans-covered leg is barely brushing Dean’s naked hip. “Just yourself huh?”

Finally getting a little physical contact sends a shiver through Dean’s whole body, he lets himself settle before answering, wanting his voice to be as steady as possible. “Yeah, it was uh, too dangerous of a situation and I didn’t want to anyways.”

“Because it wasn’t me?” Sam asks quickly, in the most sharply demanding tone he’s used yet tonight.

Dean doesn’t say anything.  Just looks at him like he ought to already know the answer.  Sam raises his eyebrows in an _I’m waiting expression_ and Dean sighs, closing his eyes before answering. “Yeah, Sammy.”

Sam gives him a second to recover because he knows that was hard for his brother to admit, he waits until Dean’s looking at him to ask. “You’re just mine aren’t you?”

Eyes widening in surprise at such a direct question, Dean answers before he can stop himself. “Course, you know that.”

“But do you Dean? Do you really know that?  Earlier today you were thinking I’d go off and live in a house by myself without you or spend my inheritance on college or leave it to Amelia.  So I don’t think you get it.  You’re mine, but I’m yours too.”

Dean doesn’t answer, because Sam’s right, he really doesn’t believe that, he wants to, oh god does he ever, but no, not after the betrayal with Ruby.  And this latest Amelia thing. He can’t let himself go down that road again, he knows he’ll be too hurt if Sam chooses someone else again. “But you were with her for a year, weren’t you hers?”

“No Dean. I really wasn’t ever hers. I never told her the truth about me, about my life with you. She never really understood why I fell apart just because I’d lost my brother. I know it never made much sense to her, and I didn’t give that to her, because it was the only thing I had left of you.”

Dean swallows against the emotion he feels all of a sudden, picturing Sam holding himself apart from this woman who was holding him together, just so Sam could remember him. “Okay Sammy.”

“You’re mine, but I’m yours too,” Sam repeats.

Dean can’t say anything, he can’t even nod to agree, because he’s not sure of his answer and he doesn’t want to lie, but he doesn’t want to disappoint Sam either.

Sam sees right away that he’s not going to get an answer to the most important question of the evening, at least not yet.  He says, in a low, sultry voice that wraps around the base of Dean’s spine. “Just so you know, tonight’s not about bondage or pain. But it might be hard for you. If anything I do is too far or too much, then you use your safe-word, okay?”

“I promise,” Dean says in a small firm voice, eyes searching Sam’s face.  Because he doesn’t understand what Sam means it’s not about bondage or pain, why the ropes then?

“Good.  Okay, so we’ll start then.”  Sam turns around to face the table and comes back with a blindfold.

Dean gulps, not in fear, but, well, he’s never done this, both blindfolded and tied-up, one or the other, but not both at the same time.

“Don’t worry you won’t have it on for long. Okay?” Sam says as he ties the soft blindfold securely over Dean’s eyes.

“Wanna see you Sammy,” Dean protests, sounding weak to his own ears, knowing that he wants this, whatever this is, if Sam wants it.

Sam runs his fingers lightly over Dean’s lips, pulling back when Dean’s tongue snakes out to lick at Sam’s fingers.  “You will see me, don’t worry. This is about you for now.”

Dean settles back, letting go of the last resistance he was holding onto. “Okay, do with me what you want.”

“That’s not what this is either.  Just keep an open mind okay? You trust me right?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, course I do,” Dean answers with the remaining bravado he has for the night, he’s kinda used it all up at this point.

“Then just relax now,” Sam says as soothingly as he can manage.

Dean tries to really relax, but it’s hard, he’s naked and tied-up and blindfolded and there’s this thrumming left-over Purgatory instinct still running through him that won’t let him let his guard down, ever again maybe.  So he makes himself concentrate on and listen to Sam’s movements, his hearing sharpened by the loss of his vision.  There’s the sound of what is probably a lid being removed from a bottle and then a _glug_ of liquid.  Then the unmistakable sound of Sam’s large hands rubbing together, hopefully warming up whatever the liquid is _.  Hopefully lube so the show gets on the road more quickly_ Dean thinks to himself.

Sam puts his hands on the top of Dean’s shoulders and begins massaging him lightly at first and then deeply, working the oil into his skin, moving down each arm to the fingertips and back up again.  He gets more oil and moves onto Dean’s chest, paying a lot of attention to the spots where the pecs connect to the trapezius, pressing in deeply until Dean moans for the first time.  “That feel good Dean?” asks Sam circling his fingers around Dean’s nipples but skipping them, the bastard.

“Yeah feels good,” Dean answers, proud of himself for not begging that Sam work over his nipples.  Or maybe Sam’s forgotten how much he likes that.

“Don’t worry Dean, I’ll come back to them,” Sam says, as if he listened in on Dean’s thoughts. 

“You better,” Dean mumbles and then sinks back into himself to enjoy this massage Sam seems so intent on giving him.  He’s starting to feel like he’s warming up to this thing, being taken care of by Sam with all of his senses aligned with Sam because he can’t see.

“I remember what you like, don’t worry about it,” Sam says, grinning even though Dean can’t see it, hopefully he can hear it in his voice.  He pinches each nipple in turn to emphasize the point.

When Sam moves down to his belly Dean struggles with not responding to it as a tickle, but Sam keeps the touch strong, not light and teasing.  Finally he’s down below Dean’s belly button, this should start to get good, Dean hopes. But no, Sam’s massaging fingers go right on by, doing Dean’s hips, the sides of his glutes, the inner and outer thighs, but carefully and intentionally staying away from where Dean really wants his touch.  Dean can feel himself, hard and straining towards Sam’s hands and tries to will it away.  He’s not going to beg.

Instead Dean lets himself just feel the touch of his brother all over his body.  How good it feels, how right, how much he’s missed it.  How it seems like Sam knows exactly what spots to touch him in to release a bunched-up painful muscle or to give him an intense burst of pleasure.  The inside of his knees, who knew?   No one has ever touched him all over all at once like this, not with so much care and yeah okay, probably love. He’s gotten his share of massages with happy endings before of course, but this is something different. 

Not being able to see Sam he can use his other senses, he catches a whiff of Sam’s shampoo as he bends over him to do his shoulders. He feels the roughness of Sam’s right hand versus his left due to the calluses that handling guns leave behind even after a year off.  He can clearly hear Sam’s breathing speeding up as he works on Dean’s inner thighs, probably because of being so near to Dean’s thickening cock.  Dean realizes this is the longest he’s gone without saying anything during sex ( _is this even sex?_ he wonders), just groaning now and then in response to Sam hitting a good spot.  He’s then left wishing he could taste Sam, that’s the only sense left out.

As if Sam’s read his mind again, he feels Sam’s lips on his and opens up hungrily as Sam kisses him deeply and carefully, drawing out the pleasure of exploring each other’s mouths fully and completely.  Dean’s left wondering how Sam knew he wanted to taste him just then, but is interrupted in that thought when Sam breaks off and goes back down to massaging his legs all the way down to his feet. It’s a real challenge for him fighting the urge to kick out, but luckily Dean’s ankles are tied down. _It’s a good thing they are_ , he thinks, because he’d hate to kick Sam in the face or something stupid like that. 

Sam massages Dean’s feet harder, especially the sore instep and Dean feels the rest of his foot tense up and relax completely, his toes tingle as Sam pulls each toe and pushes hard on the balls of his feet.  Running hands all the way back up his body, Sam stops back up at the shoulders and proceeds to Dean’s neck, rubbing the back underneath where it’s sore, always so sore from driving. 

Sam stops and Dean feels him move away, off the bed.  Dean misses it instantly, the warm presence of his brother right next to him.  _Right at his side where he belongs_. But he doesn’t say anything, he listens, and hears the sound of Sam taking his clothes off.  Then he feels the bed dip as Sam climbs back up on the bed, kind of near his head.  Dean opens his mouth expecting to be fed Sam’s cock at this point, but no, Sam is climbing over and under him carefully so that now his head is resting on a pillow in Sam’s presumably naked lap, his legs on either side of his shoulders.  Dean guesses that Sam must be sitting up leaning back against the headboard.

Without a word, Sam just starts massaging Dean’s head slowly, doing each section of it carefully and completely, finally ending with his face.  The caring caresses on his cheekbones, eyebrows, forehead, around his lips are almost too much to bear without just moaning nonstop, Dean can barely control himself. 

He’s feeling wild at this point to touch Sam himself the only contact he has is Sam’s hands on his head and the sides of his shoulders resting on Sam’s inner thighs.  He can smell Sam now though, the muskier scent of him is near to his face so he breathes that in deeply, it’s a scent that he’s really missed more than he’d realized.  It’s always meant home and love and pleasure, which he finds, it still does.  When Sam’s hands stop moving and are just holding the sides of his head, Dean wonders what the pause is for.  _Maybe Sam’s reconsidering showing him that he’s not going anywhere.  Maybe this was it.  Maybe Dean wasn’t good enough or didn’t behave the way Sam wanted._   It must all show on his face, because Sam interrupts the long silence. “Dean, just relax, I’m just resting my hands for a minute.”

Dean blows out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, releasing the tension that has built up worrying that he wasn’t doing this right.  He’s pretty sure Sam knows he’s not really into the whole BDSM thing, and that he’s really not much of a submissive or anything, so whatever comes next will be new territory for both of them.  He’s proud of himself though, for not begging through this whole long massage process.  And he feels good, all over good, like he hasn’t felt in, well he can’t think of how long really.  He wishes he was on his front so Sam could have massaged his back too.  Except for the hardness of his cock, Dean feels like he’s melted into a pile of mush at Sam’s hands.  Dean moves his head back and forth a little and encounters something hard in Sam’s lap under the pillow, so Sam’s hard too, good. At least they’re in this together.

Sam finally moves his hands, and it’s not what Dean expects.  He removes the blindfold.  Dean looks up into his brother’s upside-down face and meets his eyes.  They’re filled with so many emotions Dean couldn’t possibly separate and name them all.  “Need you to see this next part Dean,” Sam says quietly, lifting Dean’s head up a little off his lap, kissing him gently, the upside-down kiss both strange and wonderful. Then Sam’s getting out from under Dean’s head, propping it up on several pillows so Dean can see his own naked body stretched out, contained at four points by the black silk cords, still very erect cock waiting for attention.  Dean almost complains about getting the show on the road already, but he stops, reminding himself that he’s put everything in Sam’s hands for the night, he’s following Sam’s lead on this and he waits without saying anything. 

Sam gets off the bed and walks around to the foot of it, standing there so Dean can see all of him, powerful shoulders, perpetually tanned skin, black tattoo over his heart, the hard planes of his stomach, the deep v-cuts that point to his groin where his cock is just as erect as Dean’s is.  Dean’s eyes travel back up to Sam’s and he sees the darkness in them, which is the lust coming through and winning over everything else Sam is trying to do tonight. 

As Dean watches he sees the lust give over to something else, a look that Dean recognizes but can’t name.  He’s seen it on Sam, he knows he has, but he can’t place it.  When Sam gets on his knees and takes one foot in hand that’s when Dean remembers, it’s the hero-worship look that Sam wore up until his pre-teen years.  How could he have forgotten it?  It had been one of the best things about being Sam’s big brother, knowing that he was a big damn hero to Sam no matter what he did or what he screwed up.  Dean’s only seen it a few times since then, and yeah he’ll admit it, he’s missed it. But what’s it doing on Sam’s face right now of all times?  He wants to ask and is just about to when Sam finally speaks.

“Your feet Dean, these feet.  Where have they taken you?  You’ve been everywhere walking on these feet, Hell, Heaven and Purgatory and all over our part of Earth.  They’re always on the right path, I just need to look for them and I know where to go.” Sam kisses each foot in turn and then holding both of them, one in each outstretched hand, he says with his eyes closed, solemnly as if he’s praying. “I am thankful for your feet.”  He opens his eyes and looks up at Dean.

Dean is speechless, he has no idea what Sam is even doing here, kissing his damned feet and practically praying over them, but he can tell it’s important to him.  And maybe it’s a little uncomfortable but he’s not going to stop him.  Not when Sam’s looking at him like he hung the moon again.

Sam sees that Dean’s accepting this strangeness, at least so far, and continues, kneeing his way up onto the foot of the bed, hard cock bobbing in front of him, in-between Dean’s widespread and secured feet.  He puts his warm hands on Dean’s knees holding them firmly. “Your knees Dean, these knees.  Where have they served you?  When you’ve needed to bend, to move quickly, to be flexible and open to change.” Sam leans over and kisses each knee in turn, his eyes closed again, with that prayerful look. “I am thankful for your knees.”  Sam opens his eyes slowly and looks up at Dean from his bent-over position.

Dean’s feeling himself coming a little unglued, wishing that Sam had given him a heads up about what to expect tonight, this is so different than anything they’ve ever done, it’s so damn intimate, even more than sex.  He’s feeling stripped bare in front of Sam and starts to try and put his walls up, but he looks at Sam there, bent over his knees, looking at him so openly and worshipfully that he just can’t.  He even manages a faint hint of a smile.  The thought of safe-wording a fleeting memory at this point.

Seeing that tiny smile on Dean’s face makes Sam’s heart leap up in his chest with happiness, so he takes a deep breath and continues.  Kneeling further up into the vee of Dean’s body stopping when his knees are just grazing his inner thighs. Sam places one hand on Dean’s balls and one over his still very hard cock.  It leaps up at finally feeling something, anything.  “Your cock Dean, this cock.  How much pleasure has it brought you? Me? Us?  Unending and exquisite physical pleasure and joy. “  Sam closes his eyes and kisses the tip of Dean’s cock, he lifts up a little, eyes still closed with a look of prayerful bliss on his face, “I am thankful for your cock.”  Sam opens his eyes and finds Dean’s immediately.

Just watching Sam do this step by step is blowing Dean’s mind.  He’s not sure how he’s refraining from saying something to ruin it all, but he is, damnit he is, because he can tell this is more than just some slightly kinky weird sex ritual, it’s way beyond that.  The way he’s starting to feel deep inside is just kind of, well, kind of clean.  From his feet up to where Sam’s just kissed him, his body feels purified.  How can that be?  He nods a little at Sam.

Sam sees that slight nod and decides he’s going to carry on, Dean hasn’t safe-worded, so it must still be okay.  He moves up so that he’s straddling Dean’s groin, his own heavy, full balls resting on Dean’s still hard cock, his own cock pressing between their stomachs as he bends over to place a hand over each of Dean’s nipples. “Your chest Dean, this chest.  Container of your compassionate heart, and where you carry your immense and admirable courage.  Where you carry the mark of our brotherhood.”  Sam moves his hands off of Dean and leans over further to kiss each nipple in turn, then tracing the outline of the tattoo lightly with just the tip of his tongue. Not lingering or teasing, but as if in blessing.  “I am thankful for your chest.”  Sam looks up from Dean’s chest, so much closer to his face now that he can clearly see the emotions flowing through his eyes. 

Meeting his brother’s eyes so closely now Dean can see into their depths, that Sam means all of this stuff.  Every damn word is the truth for him.  He knows it deep in his heart, and it’s filling him up, not just with feeling clean, but with feeling truly loved.  He’s not sure, but he might start crying at any moment and he doesn’t want to ruin this, but he doesn’t want to hold the feeling in any longer either.  A few tears escape sliding down his cheeks, but he smiles at Sam so that he’ll know they’re the good kind of tears.

Staying where he is, even though he wants more than anything to untie Dean and gather him up in his arms and lick the tears off his face, Sam makes himself continue.  He needs to finish this, for Dean, for them.  He puts one hand on each of Dean’s shoulders, pressing his weight down. “Your shoulders Dean, these shoulders.  Strong supporter of weights and burdens unimaginable to anyone other than you.  As well as solace and comfort for those you love.”  Sam leans over and kisses first one and then the other rounded, muscular shoulder, feeling it flex under his lips.  “I am thankful for your shoulders.”  He tips his head up and opens his eyes to Dean’s which are still a little teary, but brilliant with a fire inside that he hasn’t seen in a long while.

Dean’s not sure he can take much more of this, as good as it is, he feels like he’s going to burst with everything he’s feeling.  Having Sam worship him like this is amazing, and he’s surprised at how his body feels so good like he could leap off the bed and do anything.  He struggles to stay in the moment, right here with Sam, following where he’s leading them on this strange night.  Sam’s eyes are twinkling with more happiness than Dean can remember seeing for many years _.  This is good.  This is a good thing.  He’s going to hang in there then, he can do it._

Sam remains there, still lightly sitting on Dean’s groin, the small movements unavoidably arousing, but that’s okay for now, it’s keeping them connected at that level.  He moves his hands up to Dean’s biceps and holds one in each hand.  “Your arms Dean, these arms.  So strong to fight with, to protect and to prevail.  Stronger still to enfold and hold those you love.”  Closing his eyes tightly Sam leans to the left and then the right kissing each of Dean’s biceps.  “I am thankful for these arms.”

Sam opens his eyes and lets go of Dean’s arms, keeping contact he moves his hands further up, past the silk cords at his wrists, to join with Dean’s hands.   “Your hands Dean, these hands.  Clever and nimble and swift, practiced in the ways of battle and war.  Soft and gentle in their healing passionate touch. These hands that have held me and touched me for my whole life long.”  Sam leans up to the right and to the left, to lift each hand up to the limit of the cord, up to meet his lowered face, eyes closed, expression as one on a penitent’s face, receiving a blessing, and kisses each open palm in the center.  “I am thankful for these hands.”

Dean’s beyond responding anymore, he’s floating in a sea of Sam at this point.  Sam’s voice the wind pushing him along the waves.  All of this is going into him and filling up the nooks and crannies that have always been starved and empty.  He feels Sam let go of their entwined hands and watches Sam move up his body a little and misses the contact of the heat of their groins.  Suddenly Sam’s face is looming over his.  A look from Sam that tells him _to hold on almost done_ somehow gets through to him. 

Sam brushes his fingertips over Dean’s lips gently.  “Your lips Dean, these lips.  Talented and wise, able to speak your truth and to dissemble when needed.   Full and flexible, always soft and warm, always kissing me where I need it.”  Sam leans down a little further and brushes his lips against Dean’s so softly.  “I am thankful for these lips.”

A sigh escapes Dean at that slight touch of their lips, like he’s been waiting for that particular kiss for his whole life.  He and Sam have shared a lot of kisses over the years of course.  But this one, this one is completely different somehow.  Like it’s locking in the feeling he has inside right now, the one he’s missed all these years, and it’s back, the rightness of knowing his brother is his, _completely his_ , is back.  And this time it’s not going anywhere.

Tilting his head up slightly Sam looks down into Dean’s eyes.  They’re kind of glassy at this point, still a little teary, overfilled with emotions, and just raw, pure Dean.  No walls between them anymore.  He touches each of Dean’s eyelids reverently. “Your eyes Dean, these eyes.  They’ve seen everything from Heaven to Hell and anything else in-between, me at my worst, death, rebirth, danger, opportunity, and still you see that vision of a better world, you hold that true vision for me.”  As Sam lowers himself closer to Dean’s eyes, they close, and Sam kisses each eyelid softly.  “I am thankful for these eyes.”

With his eyes closed, Dean can go inside himself a little better and feel how it is having Sam worshipped him all the way from his toes to his eyes.  There’s a peaceful sense in him that this thing that Sam is doing has been coming for a long time.  And he’s glad that he got to stick around long enough to experience it.  He opens his eyes and looks up into his brother’s, feeling himself tip forward into the darkened hazel depths swimming above him.  Their connection feels even stronger now.  He’s really wishing he could hold Sam now and tugs a little at his wrist bonds.

“Last one,” Sam whispers, moving up a little further and settling down to sit on Dean’s belly, the hardness of his cock pressing into Dean’s solar plexus.  Dean can feel his own, pointing up towards Sam as if it feels neglected.  But Sam said this is the last, he takes a big breath of air and holds it in.  Sam leans all the way over him and holds the top of his head.  “Your crown Dean, this crown.  Container of your brain, all your knowledge and skill, your memories, your fantastic mind.  Your control and discipline, everything you’ve learned and loved here, in one place.”  Sam leans down, his chest over Dean’s face momentarily, kissing the top of Dean’s head.  “I am thankful for your crown.”

Lifting up off of Dean, Sam notices that Dean’s eyes are closed again, and he looks like he’s in a blissful sleep. He unties Dean’s hands and then moves off to the side of Dean to undo his ankles.  He blankets Dean completely with his body, and Dean looks up at him in surprise as if Sam’s awoken him. Sam pushes himself up on his elbows, and gazes down into Dean’s eyes.

“Dean, what I just did with you tonight is what I want you to always remember.  You’re not just a body to be objectified and used.  All of your parts fit together into this amazing whole that I can never seem to love enough.  Every single part of you is precious to me.  Especially what’s in here.“  Sam taps him lightly on the side of his head, “and in here.” Sam presses gently on his chest, over his heart. “But all of it, all of you, is worth more than the world to me.  And I will never leave you again, not in this life or the next.”

There are no words left in Dean’s mind, all he can do is mouth as clearly as possible, _Sammy_.

“Remember tonight when you see this.”  Sam lifts up Dean’s right hand and brings his inner wrist up to his mouth, kissing his pulse, then sucking harder, adding a bite, pulling the heat and the blood up to darken the existing mark.  They both are breathing more heavily, the intense feeling of it making Dean squirm a little under Sam’s body.

“Do you know why I chose to bite you here earlier today and again just now?” Sam asks stroking his forefinger over the dark red mark.

Dean digs deep within himself and somehow finds his voice and answers honestly, “No.”

“Because we can see it, all day, every day, and so can anyone else. When you’re driving you can see it and so can I.  Whenever you see this, I want you to remember what I’m telling you right now.  I am not ever leaving you again.”

“I believe you Sammy,” Dean says, and is amazed to find that he does, deep down, really believes Sam this time, and he realizes in that moment, that this little fact is going to change everything for him.  His whole life has been arranged around Sam, and most of it premised on the assumption that Sam was about to leave at any moment for something better.  Dean looks at Sam with widening eyes that show he’s accepting the truth that Sam’s truly his now, for good. 

Sam almost lets his tears fall at that small statement, it means everything to him.  He’s finally convinced Dean, after all this time, all the frustration and pain, he finally got through to his brother.  There’s a satisfaction that hits him, this deep feeling that he’s got to share with Dean somehow, and it has to be now to seal the deal, tonight.  This very moment when all their understanding, the past the future, now will fuse together as it always was meant to be. They don’t usually take this kind of time and care with each other, but tonight, when he’s got Dean in this state, he’s going to. But he still has to ask, just in case. “After all that you still wanna?”

“You have to ask?” Dean laughs gesturing weakly at his still very hard and neglected cock.

Sam points at his own and answers. “No, I suppose not, a little obvious.”

Dean’s still feeling loose and out of his body, so Sam’s able to manhandle him into the position he wants him in, a pillow under his ass, legs up and spread.  He’s just able to hold them spread apart, and is looking up at Sam with this almost heart-breaking open expression, it kind of takes Sam’s breath away for a moment.  Sam knows he’s got to take it slow, Dean’s so vulnerable right now, leaving himself open so wide and unprotected like this. Not just his body, but that little bit of himself that he’s always held back from Sam.  Seeing Dean finally release control, giving it up to him is exhilarating and Sam knows he has to reign in his impulses to take and command and possess.  That’s not what this is about. 

After looking at Dean for almost too long, Sam leans over him and kisses him deeply, feeling the longing for completion and connection in Dean’s kiss.  They’re still so far apart, they haven’t joined together physically yet, and Dean’s most of the way there, Sam holding himself back until he can’t any more.  He kisses his way down Dean’s torso, teasing Dean’s nipples to hardness, and lightly licking his cock, but not taking him into his mouth yet.

Just as Dean starts to voice his complaints at being neglected he feels Sam’s tongue continue, further, past his balls and perineum, circling around his hole.  Licking softly all around the entrance.  Dean groans and tries to pulls himself apart even wider to give Sam room.  He surrenders himself over to Sam’s tongue and fingers.  Taking whatever they give him now, with nothing held back.  He’s making noises that he’s never made, saying things he’d never say, Sam’s gotten him to a place he didn’t know he could go.  He didn’t know there was such a place and that he’d ever want to get there. 

Dean’s begging and demanding and asking and telling as he feels himself opening wider and wider as Sam works his fingers in alongside his tongue.  He’s straining up, his cock bobbing on its own, seeking for friction or heat anything, something and he can’t stop, feeling the words pour out of him, not caring anymore what he says, Sam knows it all anyways.  Words of love and pain and loss and despair and ecstasy and commitment all jumbled together in a mass of emotion and pure feeling that he’s stored up for too long.

 And it all goes away like a soap bubble popping when Sam’s suddenly entering him, taking him fully.  Pushing through and past all the barriers until he’s deep inside Dean, almost touching the place where he’s set up camp in Dean’s heart.  A spark of connection and recognition completes this circuit and Dean feels lit up inside with love and joy that they’ve come back to each other; that this is home, when their bodies are joined.  And yes he’s saying all that out loud, but he doesn’t care, because he’s hearing Sam’s answer even though it’s wordless. It’s an answer made with the actions of his body, pounding deep and hard and then slow and steady. Taking them up and down those hills of pleasure that they rarely get to. Drawing it all out in this exquisite near-torturous parade of sensation and delight and aching emptiness finally filled for good. 

Dean feels himself crest and almost go over. Barely holding back his orgasm until he feels Sam lose the rhythm. It makes Dean go wanton and loose circling his hips, containing and trapping Sam there, pulling him in. Drawing out everything Sam has to give him and finally letting himself surrender and join Sam in that final bliss.

They can’t move for a while, coming back to themselves, wrapped up and still joined, messy and sweating, breathing heavily.  Sam’s collapsed on top of Dean, and finally he pushes him a little, to get some space to breathe.  Sam groans and pulls out, rolling onto his side and drawing Dean in close.  Dean doesn’t resist the snuggling for once, lost in the afterglow to end all afterglows.  He’s not even tempted to crack a joke or break this up. For once, he’s wanting to remain in this feeling for as long as it can last. 

Sam falls asleep almost instantly and Dean pulls the covers up over them both, turning himself so that he can watch his brother’s beautiful relaxed sleeping face.  His last coherent thought as he drifts off to sleep himself is that he always knew Sam loved him, but he never really had accepted that Sam loves him just as much as he loves Sam.  Dreams of balance and equality come to him that night, soothing him with images of a future life with Sam always at his side.

~!~!~!~!~

They wake up in the enormous bed the next day intertwined and pretty sticky since neither of them bothered to clean up last night. Dean grumps about it until Sam starts blowing him. Then there’s no more complaining.  Sam pulls off soon, and hands Dean the tube of lube, rolling to the side and spreading his legs.

Dean chuckles when he sees Sam’s face. Sam wants this, needs it. And no way is Dean questioning this, they switch all the time, or at least they used to.  Not out of a fair’s fair thing, but because they both like it, and want it, Dean would even admit to himself that he needs it sometimes, which means Sam does too. Because last night, amazing doesn’t even cover it. He gets right to work opening Sam up thoroughly, after he’s only partway inside his brother he pauses for Sam to be able to adjust and touches his stomach softly, to gentle him. “So tight Sammy, did you miss this?”

“Shut up Dean.”

“Oh what? Only you get to say anything?” Dean snarks, amused that his brother’s objecting to any words at this point.

“No. Just don’t want to think about what I missed. Just want this, want you now,” Sam says, looking up at Dean with a frank, open smile that urges Dean to drop it and just **_do_** him already.

Dean’s face changes as he absorbs those words, goes quickly from a smirking taunt to an open adoring smile, he presses in the rest of the way until he’s deeply seated inside Sam. “You got it Sammy.”

Neither of them use any more words after that, unless you count the ones that Sam babbles as he’s coming after long minutes of fast and then slow pounding from Dean. And that’s only one word, screamed out as if it had fifteen syllables, Dean’s name.  That’s when Dean knows he’s given back to Sam what he was given last night. Exactly what he needed. Knowing that is the last thing he needs, the hitch in Sam’s voice as he finishes saying Dean’s name, like a prayer, that makes him come hard and deep inside Sam. 

They lie there panting for a long moment, just looking at one another. Neither one knowing what to say. Because it feels different. Because of what Sam did last night, because Dean listened and believed him. Sam turns his head to the left and bites Dean hard on the dark mark on the inside of his right wrist, he hears Dean’s intake of breath that tells him the reminder is still working. Dean’s really not forgetting. Sam licks over the bite to soothe it, then kisses it with warm, wet suction.

Dean pulls out gently and flops over next to Sam. “Thanks Sammy, I needed that.”

~!~!~!~!~

The next day as they’re driving, Sam sees Dean touching the love bite again and again and smiling so slightly he almost misses it. That’s when he knows that Dean really believes him this time.

Sam renews the mark every few days so it won’t fade out too much.  Dean pretends to complain, but he never stops Sam from doing it. It means too much to him, and feels too good too when Sam is licking and sucking and biting him in such a vulnerable and public spot on his body.  He knows he should stop touching it, especially when he’s driving and Sam could notice.  But rubbing over that spot on his wrist, feeling the familiar curl of want in his belly at the thought of how undone he feels whenever Sam bites him there is just too delicious.

A few weeks later, Dean’s rubbing at it again while he’s driving, and this time Sam reaches over to stroke his thumb over the spot making Dean shiver even though he should be used to it by now.

“Why don’t you just tattoo it on there or something Sam? I think I get the point by now,” Dean says, irritated with himself for reacting this way, for letting Sam get to him like this, for liking it so much, for getting so turned on by the idea he’s just thrown out there for Sam to grab onto and not let go like the terrier that he always has been.

Sam’s eyes widen in surprise, and he doesn’t stop rubbing gently over the bite, thinking about what Dean’s suggestion really means. “Really, you’d want a tattoo there? Where everyone can see it all the time?”

“Yeah, why not?  ‘s not like I haven’t seen people noticing the damn mark anyways.  You pick something.  But I want you to have it too, the same thing, in the same place,” Dean answers, hoping that by asking Sam to choose something for them both to have tattooed Sam will understand what he’s really feeling.  That he is Sam’s, and Sam’s his. And that isn’t changing. Ever again.

“We already have matching tattoos Dean, aren’t those enough?” Sam asks, curious if he’s really understanding what Dean is saying here, because this is beyond important, this is everything right here, everything that he’s ever wanted and never could ask for.

“No, those didn’t mean what this would.  This is for now, for what this means,” Dean says, frustrated that Sam might not be getting it, because he truly does not want to have to say it out loud because he always screws that kind of thing up.  And if he messes this up now Sam would kill him.

Sam sees his frustration and takes pity on him and asks, “What, that we’re choosing to be together?”

“Yeah for the future and all that stuff. And I like the idea of how the tattoo is permanent,” Dean adds, relieved that Sam gets it.

“Are you tired of me biting you all the time?” Sam asks.

“No, uh not that. You don’t have to stop that unless you want to,” Dean answers, trailing off with a little embarrassment.

Sam practically purrs with happiness. “Good because I like doing it.”

And Dean can’t answer, suddenly tongue-tied with the relief he feels at hearing that.  He loves that overwhelming emotion of craving permanence and connection that hits him every single time Sam bites him there.  The always present reminder of that night when Sam took him apart piece by piece and put him back together again.  The words Sam says, the ones he doesn’t say but communicates anyways. All those about how they’re together forever now. Choosing each other over and over again. Through time and all the dimensions they’ve visited in their travels together.

!~!~!~!~!~

Sam researches symbols for a while, and finally comes up with something that he thinks Dean won’t object to, and hopefully he’ll even like it once he tells him what the symbol represents.  He prints out a black and white version that has the explanation of the symbol to give to his brother when Dean gets back to the motel with their dinner. Waiting and looking out the window, Sam thinks back to that night in Madison when Dean let him put them back together again, how everything has changed for them from that point forward in such a fundamental way. He’d never imagined how good this could be.

“Hey, ready for some of Springville, New York’s finest barbequed brisket?” Dean asks at the doorway, juggling a few bags of food.

“As long as you got something green to go along with it, yeah, bring on the meat,” Sam answers, moving his laptop out of the way of the food.

“Course I did princess, do I ever forget?”

Dean starts unpacking the big bag that’s soaking through with the steam and grease on the bottom, two containers contain the brisket and potatoes, a separate one has one of the best green salads Sam’s seen in weeks. He always forgets how much better the salads get the closer to the coasts you go. In his mostly diner-going experience, the Midwest does some great food, but salads, not so much.

“I’ve found it, if you like it, we just have to pick what colors we want it done in.”  Sam pulls a plate over to himself and hands over the printout with the small interlocking design on it.

“That’s really cool, what is it?”  Dean asks, turning the paper around in all directions.

“It’s an endless or eternal knot, Tibetan. Read the explanation on there.  I think we should each pick a different color.  The outside of my tat would be green for example, and the inside of yours would be green. And mine would have your color on the inside, and your color would be on the outside of yours.”

Dean reads the description on the paper: _The endless knot or eternal knot (Devanagari:_ _श्रीवत्स; Sanskrit: śrīvatsa; Tibetan:_ དཔལ་བེའུ _"...the auspicious mark represented by a curled noose emblematical of love...” Moreover, it represents the intertwining of wisdom and compassion, the mutual dependence of religious doctrine and secular affairs, the union of wisdom and method, the inseparability of emptiness and dependent co-arising), and the union of wisdom and compassion in enlightenment. It is also symbolic of knot symbolism in linking ancestors and omnipresence and the magical ritual and meta-process of binding. This knot/net/web metaphor also conveys the Buddhist teaching of the Doctrine of Interpenetration;”_

 “Red,” Dean states with finality.

“So it’s okay with you then?”  Sam asks, rubbing over the inside of Dean’s wrist where the tattoo will go.

Dean finishes reading the description and looks up at Sam. “Yeah I told you to pick something, and I like it, the meaning of it works too, I see why you chose it.”

“Where we gonna get it done?”  Sam wonders whether his brother will want to do it right now in case Dean loses his nerve after all.

Reaching over to rub the inside of Sam’s wrist where his tattoo will be, Dean answers. “Leave that part of it to me alright?”

~~~!~!

A couple more days go by as they drive east and then south taking them through some of the states they’re checking out for possible putting-down-roots places.  Dean refuses to think of it as settling down.  Because they won’t be if he has anything to say about it.  After they settle into their bed and breakfast bungalow in Cambridge, Maryland, he sends Sam out to get some dinner so that he can research tattoo places around the area, wanting to find one that does well with colored tattoos.  Turns out there’s a good spot not too far away in the main part of town, on the aptly named Main Street.  He calls and makes an appointment for that night, not wanting to delay this any longer.

Sam gets back with dinner, and sees the relieved look on Dean’s face.  It still breaks his heart a little every time, that Dean even thinks it a possibility that he wouldn’t come back.  He tries to smile reassuringly, but Dean just kind of scowls to brush it off, looking pissed that Sam noticed again.

It smells fishy which makes Dean instantly wary. “What’d you get?”

“Soft-shell crabs, all fried up in batter, and some garlic mashed potatoes.”

“No salad?”

“Yes of course, didn’t mention it since you’ll never eat it.  It’s got crab on it too though so you might want to rethink that tonight.”

Dean moves the laptop out of the way so that there’s room at the small table for all the food and with great restraint doesn’t make an answer or comment to that.  He doesn’t want to get into a fight about food tonight, not when he’s got something so good planned.  So Dean decides to ask a hopefully safe question. “What’re we drinking with all this?”

Looking up from the carry bag with a smile, Sam produces a bottle and a six-pack. “Got some wine and also a local microbrew that looked pretty good.”  He gets some glasses out of the bathroom for the wine and comes back to see Dean opening the wine bottle up quite handily with his Leatherman.

“I didn’t know you knew how to open wine like that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Sammy,” Dean smiles, pouring a glass of wine for each of them.

“That so?” Sam mumbles through a much too big mouthful of crab.

Dean doesn’t answer, just smiles in what he hopes is an enigmatic way and tucks into his dinner, surprised at how good the crab is, he makes some yummy happy eating sounds that Sam laughs at.

“Glad you like it,” Sam says.

“Yeah, this is damn good, glad you picked it.  So uh, got any plans for later tonight?”

Sam cocks his head to one side in that way that never fails to make him look like a puppy. “No, not really, just looking at real estate stuff online while we’re here, why?”

“Got us an appointment for nine,” Dean says, looking at Sam with a steady gaze.

Sam reaches over and rubs over the slightly faded mark on Dean’s wrist, searching Dean’s face to confirm the appointment is for what he thinks it is. “Good.” Sam says quietly.

Dean clears his throat, sounding a little nervous and drinks the rest of his wine.

~~~!~!

They finish their glasses of wine and have only one beer each before getting in the car for the short drive to the tattoo place, not wanting to be rejected for getting the tattoo done because of drunkenness.

“You sure this is a good place Dean?”  Sam asks a little hesitantly.

“Yeah, I checked it out, highest rated one around the whole area.  And before you ask, yes I have the artwork with me.  We’ll just have to choose the colors there.  You still going with green?” Dean answers looking over to see if Sam is possibly chickening out.

“Uh huh, you’re still getting red right?” Sam asks, looking back steadily in answer to Dean’s silent question _No I am not chickening out and neither are you_.

“Red is it baby.  Complementary color of green, so that’s what it’s gotta be,” Dean answers with a ridiculous wide grin.

Sam fights down the urge to resist being called baby. “I didn’t know you knew color theory Dean.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot you don’t know about me Sammy.” Dean just gives him that side-grin and leaves it at that.

The tattoo place is stuck behind a traditional ladies hair salon, as they pass through it past all the old-style hair dryer pods, Sam asks. “What, you’re not teasing me about getting a haircut? You feeling okay dude?”

“I’m fine, and so’s your damn hair.” Dean reaches up and tugs on the back of it hard, like he does when he’s riding Sam.

Before Sam can retaliate a tall, wide man, his neck and arms covered in tattoos calls them over to the back of the shop. “Come on in guys, I’m Eric.”

“Hey Eric, nice to meet you, I’m Dean, this is Sam and here’s our artwork.” Dean shakes his hand and passes him the printout with the design.

“Oh cool, an endless knot, I’ve done a few of these.  You got colors in mind?”  Eric asks.

“Yeah, mine is red on the outside, green on the inside, colors reversed on his,”  Dean answers efficiently, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice, this is a big deal, them marking themselves permanently like this, it means a lot more to him than he’s expressed to Sam.

“And if I remember right, you want them on the inside of your wrists? Same arms?”  Eric asks, looking back and forth between the two men standing before him.

“Yeah, on the right,”  Sam says, rubbing over the inside of his wrist where the tattoo will be soon, a little shiver runs through him at the thought of wearing Dean’s mark there, forever.

“Here’s the paperwork to fill out, waivers of liability, a little health info sheet, the standard stuff,” Eric says, handing them a clipboard with a pen.

Dean takes it without a word and starts filling it out.

“So, who’s going first?” Eric asks, wondering who out of the two of them is in charge of making this tattoo thing happen tonight.  Usually with couples it’s one of them that wants it more than the other.

“Me,” Sam answers, folding himself down onto the low bench, keeping his eyes fixed on Dean’s.

“Dean, you can sit back there in the salon waiting room, or pull up that stool if you want to hang out.” Eric says pointing at a rolling silver stool at the other side of the room. 

Dean winks at Sam and retrieves the stool, rolling up to be on Sam’s left side. “I know you want me to hold your hand for this Sammy.”

Sam grins at him and squeezes his hand tightly.

Eric transfers the art quickly and outlines the endless knot design in black.  The pain isn’t as bad as Sam had thought it would be, not nearly as bad as when they got their chest tats done. Having Dean there, warming his left side is a familiar comfort.  They’ve gotten each other through a lot of physical pain, just by being there as support and witness.  When the colors start getting filled in though, with the green outlining the outer edge, Sam begins to feel larger inside, like he’d be big enough to cover and protect both he and Dean from anything.  This feeling intensifies until he could swear he’s seeing everything tinged green around himself and his brother, like they’re in a thin green bubble together. 

Eric switches over to using Dean’s red then, filling in the center in that intense, yet complementary color.  Sam feels a warmth spreading from inside his heart, slowly spreading through his whole body. A red pulsing heat that infuses everything, the pulse beating in time with Dean’s that he can feel when he touches Dean’s wrist.  Right where his tattoo will be soon, over Sam’s bite mark, over the pulse of his body.  His still living, beating, breathing body, entirely miraculous after all these years.  The red, the heat, the love he feels is everything, there’s nothing else but this strong powerful overwhelming love.  And the red is Dean’s love for him, he realizes, Sam is overwhelmed and subsumed by it all. 

He feels himself falling into Dean’s green eyes which never waver from his.  Dean leans over and kisses him gently on the forehead, brushing lightly past his lips just as the last of the red ink is drawn into his skin.  Eric bandages up Sam’s wrist, and stands up to stretch and shake out his hands.

“I’ll be right back with the second transfer.” Eric steps away back towards his desk, he can tell these two need a more private moment.  And his eyes are playing tricks on him, everything still looking a little green around the edges, he shakes his head and sips at his coffee, hoping it clears up.

Once the tattoo artist has stepped away, Sam pulls Dean back down towards him, needing more than the brushing kiss. Sam moans into Dean’s mouth and opens for him. Dean kisses him deeply and thoroughly, not caring that Eric might come back at any moment. Sam needs him right now, and he needs to show Sam that he’s not going anywhere.

“Okay, ready for you now Dean,” Eric says as he approaches, clearing his throat loudly, not really wanting to interrupt what he can tell after long experience must be a big moment for these two men.

Dean helps Sam sit up and trades places with him.  Eric begins cleaning off Dean’s wrist and sees the obvious bruised bite mark. The skin isn’t broken at all, but he usually doesn’t like to tattoo over bruises.

“Dean, this is probably going to hurt a lot more for you since you’ve got this bruise here. You still want to do it right now? We could wait until the bruise clears up?” Eric asks just to warn him, already knowing the answer.  Because of course with a tattoo like this, with two people so obviously in love as they are, getting tattooed in that particular place, especially when one of them has one of the most spectacular hickies in that spot that Eric’s ever seen is not going to want to wait.  He has a feeling that bruise has been there for a long, long time.

Dean grins up at him from the bench. “Naw, it’ll be good, I can take it, long as Sammy’s here.”

Sam reaches over and grabs Dean’s right hand. “You sure Dean? We can wait.”

“No way dude, this is happening tonight, it’s worth a little extra pain, believe me. Besides we both know it’s not going anywhere,” Dean says, smiling up at Sam, acknowledging that his near-permanent bruise wasn’t ever going to be allowed to fade and they both know that.  Especially now that Sam has his tattoo done.

Sam smiles and nods in answer, letting go of Dean’s right hand and twining his fingers into Dean’s left.

“Okay then, I’ll start,” Eric says, beginning the outline of the black endless knot.

 Dean momentarily tenses up beneath him but slows his breathing and pulse in time with Sam’s.  He rubs his thumb around the edge of the bandage on Sam’s right wrist, soothing himself with the thought that Sam got through the pain and so can he.

When Eric begins filling in the red in the outline of the tattoo, Dean blinks his eyes several times, as Sam’s face is tinged red, he looks and sees that his body and Sam’s are all limned in a red glow that is pulsing in time with their synced heart-beats.  He feels so large, like he doesn’t fit inside his body anymore, like he could cover and protect both of them with no problem.  Dean widens his eyes and searches Sam’s face, _did this happen to you too?_    He silently asks Sam, who sees his question and nods, then mouthing exaggeratedly so Dean can’t miss it:  **_I Love You._**

Eric is onto filling in his tattoo with green, Sam’s color and Dean begins to experience a cooling depthless feeling centered in his heart, it’s all-encompassing, there’s nothing but this feeling of love and respect and joy and admiration and thankfulness.  There’s no end to it, it’s everything. He realizes that this is what Sam feels for him, that he’s always harbored a worry that Sam would leave again or that he really should be with someone better, but now Dean knows, deep down in his own heart that Sam loves and needs him as completely as he needs Sam.  That ragged, gaping hole that’s been there since he came back from Hell is filled with green healing light, patching him up from the inside out. He allows Sam’s devotion and belief in him to repair the brokenness he’s been carrying around all this time.  He finally feels whole again, and It’s all because of Sam. This man, this brother, his lover, his partner, his everything. 

Dean mouths the word _Sammy,_ eyes filled with wonder and awe at the power of his brother’s love.  His Sammy smiles at him, seeing the tattoo is affecting Dean as much as it did him.  He mouths _Dean_ and leans down to kiss his forehead in grace or benediction and the circle completes when their mouths touch in a heated kiss.  The last of the green ink going into Dean’s body as they give themselves over to the other completely, both murmuring the words _everything, yours, love you, forever_ into each other’s lips.  They inhale the other’s words, taking them in and letting them take root in their newly connected hearts.

Eric looks up and sees the two men kissing on the bench and shakes his head at what he sees.  Both of them are tinted in a slight green, the same green that he’d just done on Dean’s wrist.  He must just be seeing things, staring at the colors all day.  He’s done with the bandaging and is bustling around, cleaning up for his next appointment which is soon, trying to discreetly let them know their time is up.  He can tell that this was more than just a set of matching tattoos for these men, the green seems to have faded, the air around them a very pale shade now. “You two are all set now.”

“Thanks man, these are perfect, just what we wanted,” Dean says, sitting up slowly with Sam’s help.

“You’re welcome, hey, can I take a picture of both of them for my portfolio?” Eric asks with a smile, he loves this part of his job when his customers are satisfied.

“Sure why not?” Sam answers, peeling off his bandage carefully. He puts his shiny ointment-covered wrist next to Dean’s while they wait for Eric to take a quick photo of their tattoos side-by-side.

“Hey if you’re around in a week after they’re healed come back, I’d love to photograph you for my wall art,” Eric asks, pointing over at the wall above his desk, where there are customer photos of all sorts of people grinning or trying to look tough, showing off their new tattoos.

“Not sure we’ll be around,” Sam says, brushing him off with the customary Winchester exit line.             

“Who knows though, we are house hunting,” Dean interjects, not really sure why he even said anything.

“Oh yeah? A friend of mine was just telling me that his neighbor’s foreclosure went through, you could pick that place up for a song I bet,” Eric says, always wanting to be helpful, especially for these guys who seem like they could use a little, even from a stranger that’s been part of such an intimate event in their lives.

“Huh, really?  Where is it?” Dean asks, always interested in a getting a good deal on something.

“It’s a waterside place, out on one of the smaller bays.  You want the address?” Eric asks.

“Sure, why not? Thanks Eric,” Dean answers.

The brothers look at each other as Eric goes over to his desk and rustles some papers around.  Sam asking a silent question, Dean shrugging it off gently.  Sam’s not sure if Dean’s taking the address just to be polite or what.  He helps Dean stand up slowly, holding him closely around the waist.  Dean leans into him, more than he ever usually does in public, and puts his own arm around Sam’s waist.  Joined together like this they walk over to Eric’s desk.

“Here you go guys, any real estate agent in town should be able to show you the place.  It’s real nice out there.” Eric says.

“Thanks man, for everything, these tattoos mean a lot to us and they turned out even better than how we imagined them.  You do real good work,” Dean says, handing over a stack of cash to pay the bill honestly for once, doesn’t seem right to put this on one of the credit cards.  Not for something this important.

“It was a pleasure, I don’t usually get to see couples clients like you two in here.  Usually it’s drunk couples that you know are going to regret getting each other’s names tattooed on their asses in the morning.  I can tell it’s different with you two.”

“No regrets here,” Sam says, speaking for both of them, Dean nods, smiling widely at both of them, pleased with himself that for once he’s not embarrassed at all that someone has acknowledged that they’re a couple.

“Oh, here’s the after-care sheet and some more ointment to use the next week,” Eric says, handing them a packet of ointment and a folded-over paper.

“Night Eric, thanks again,” Dean says over his shoulder as they walk out the door, arms around each other, walking in step.

~~~!~!

Driving around Cambridge afterwards, they’re both a little dazed by what happened in the tattoo parlor.  There’s never going to be a way to explain it to themselves or anyone else, but they each know that it means the commitment they made to each other is a permanent one.  And that changes everything.

“You know I kind of like it here,” Dean says, breaking the silence.  But what he doesn’t say out loud is that he’s just realized that he wants them to stay right here, where they did this tattoo thing.  Call him sentimental or whatever, but Cambridge is now on the **Dean Winchester List Of Life Changing Places** , forever as far as he’s concerned.  And he’d rather not get too far away from this one, because it’s by far the happiest one.  Even happier than Madison, which he wouldn’t have thought possible. If he’s honest with himself he’s feeling selfish about that, wanting to keep the happy **_with_** them, not just drive away and see it in the rear-view mirror like everything else they’ve ever done together.

“What? You want to stay for the crab?” Sam asks with a little laugh.

“No, I just noticed all the houses have docks, and I thought it’d be fun to have a boat since we’ve gotta do something with all this money now,” Dean says.

“Dean, I didn’t even know that you liked boats.”

“Told you that you didn’t know everything about me,” Dean says, winking at Sam, knowing that will get him out of having to explain any more about his reasons for wanting to stay.  As much as they’ve shared with each other today, there’s so much more that Sam doesn’t know.  And maybe he’ll never tell him.  He thinks sarcastically to himself, _Couples have to have some secrets from each other right?_

“Well okay Mr. Mysterious, let’s go find a real estate person tomorrow and get them to show us the house Eric told us about,” Sam says, accepting his brother’s weird behavior as just one more mark in the book of things he’s going to spend the rest of their life together trying to figure out.  There’s got to be more of a reason than a sudden desire to have a boat that makes Dean want to stay here.

“Cool,” Dean answers, relieved that his brother seems to have let him off the hook for a further explanation.

Sam sees his brother’s relief at having the questions stop and suddenly gets it, Dean wants to stay because this is where their joining happened.  In their lives of impermanence and horrific occasions, this is the one place he’d actually **_want_** to remember, and to maybe not even leave. He decides to say it out loud since he knows Dean would never be able to. “Yeah, it’d be cool if we ended up living here since this is where we got inked, I don’t ever want to forget this is the place where we gave ourselves to each other.”

Dean punches him in the shoulder, as expected.  But he smiles too, a relieved and happy smile that tells Sam he figured Dean’s reason out and that it was the right thing to state it so baldly like that.

That night they lie down together for the first time as a committed couple.  As two people who have joined themselves officially or at least as officially as they’ll ever be able to without a whole lot of fraud and forgery.  They don’t speak as they remove each other’s clothing, just talking with their hands and bodies, _yes you’re mine now, and I’m yours_ ,  the sex isn’t anything wild or unusual for them, but afterwards when they’re still wrapped up together in the afterglow, that’s where they discover that everything is different now.  They can’t seem to break away from each other, lying there face to face, eyes locked together.

“I feel like I could look at you all night,” Sam finally whispers. “Why do you look so different to me now?”

“Same here, it’s kinda weird Sammy,” Dean admits.

“When we were getting the tattoos, did you, uh see anything unusual?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I thought I did, you?”

“Mostly just color, it was like I was outside myself and I could see the two of us in a bubble of green, I felt like, I don’t know how to explain it, but larger somehow, like I could cover both of us,” Sam says, a little worried that Dean doesn’t really want to talk about this, but he needs to know that it wasn’t just him.

“I saw something like that, but I saw us in red, felt like I was bigger too, like I could be a big shield for both of us, protect us from anything.  It was when he was inking my colored outline,” Dean answers, finally glad to be able to voice what he saw and felt to the only person who’d ever be able to understand.

“Weird, I guess I’m glad you felt it too. When he put your color on me, I felt something really warm centered in my heart, all this emotion filled me up, it kind of felt like it was coming from you. Did it happen to you too?”

“Uh, yeah, it felt like you were filling up all the empty places in there. In me,” Dean says.

“You think he put a spell on us or something?” Sam asks.

“Naw, it didn’t feel like something coming from him, felt like it just was between you and me,” Dean answers.

“Yeah, you’re right.  That’s what it was all about, you and me.  I feel different now, deep inside, about us. Maybe it’s something to do with the soul-mates thing, like now that we’ve chosen to make this commitment to each other.  I don’t know, I’m rambling,” Sam says.

“No, it’s okay, I think you’re onto something there.  I feel it too, I feel really different inside.  Like I said, when he put the green ink on me, it’s like everything that was broken in me feels whole now.”

“Dean, I’m really glad we did this tonight.”

“Me too Sammy, me too.”

They fall asleep in each other’s arms, secure in the knowledge that from this night onwards they’re safe together in the shelter of the other’s body, rooted in the other’s soul, beating in the other’s heart.

~!~!~

The next day they choose a real estate agent based on the pictures printed in the yellow pages advertisements. Dean declares he’s not spending time with any of these bug-eyed yahoos, might as well pick someone nice to look at.  Sam cracks up at that, his brother is still deliciously predictable and after last night, he knows there’s no point in getting in a mood to be feeling too jealous.

Anita Franks is her name, and her tagline is “A house is more than an investment, it’s a home.”  She’s blonde, short, perky, and funny, and she takes charge as soon as they mention Eric and the address he gave them last night.  Within a half hour they’re out at the property, getting out of her Mercedes SUV.  The long driveway off the main road is lined with trees, making it a beautiful, green-lit tunnel, which opens out onto the circular drive in front of the house.  There’s some landscaping, but a lot more potential, the house itself is a good size, not too big, three bedrooms, a detached garage and a big kitchen that looks out on the water. 

“So as you can smell, the former owner was a big-time smoker.  As it’s a foreclosure you can’t make it a contingent sale, so you’ll have to deal with the cleaning costs yourselves.  I’d think taking out the carpets and curtains would do it.  That and cleaning the walls and re-painting. Usually that’s enough,” Anita mentions as she sweeps into the front hallway, the brothers close on her heels.

“Does it come furnished?” Sam asks, looking around at all the pretty close to new furniture in the huge living room and shining appliances in the kitchen.

“Yeah, everything you see in here would be yours, but you’d want to clean the upholstered stuff to get the smell out,” Anita answers, putting her small briefcase down on the grey marble kitchen counter.

“What about the boat down there?” Dean asks from over by the kitchen window, he can see the dock off the edge of land, water sparkling in the morning sun, a small blue hulled boat tied to the dock.

Anita comes over to join him looking out the window. “Yes, all assets associated with the house were included in the foreclosure. So that would be your boat Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me Dean, remember.  But cool. Uh, I mean, that’s great, thanks Anita.”  Dean notices that Sam’s walking off into the rest of the house and he follows. 

They tour wordlessly through all the rooms, the giant master bedroom suite with the huge windows looking out on the water both getting a silent eyebrow raise at each other.  There’s a couple extra bedrooms, one of which is outfitted with glass-fronted library shelves.  Dean grins over at Sam’s wide eyes, just imagining how happy Sam would be in here.  Suddenly he feels an almost primal urge to provide this, a safe place for his mate with everything he could ever want or need.  He spins Sam around roughly and backs him into the nearest wall, almost knocking off a framed picture of a classic Grecian temple.  Dean takes Sam’s face in his hands and pulls him down, meeting his lips in a fierce claiming kiss.  He trails his hand down to rest over the bandage still on Sam’s wrist and squeezes until Sam gasps into his mouth. 

Sam gets it immediately, he felt the same thing when he saw Dean light up at the idea of the boat.  Wanting to provide, to keep his mate safe, and more than that, to provide a place that is filled with the things that Dean loves seems like everything right now.  He kisses Dean back for a while, trying to communicate that he gets it, really gets it, they want this, no, they need this for the same reasons. They pull apart when they hear Anita bumping around in the kitchen, noises coming closer to the library room. 

Dean pulls Sam down the hallway by the hand, asking “Hey, Anita, what do you think the bank would want for this place?” when they re-enter the kitchen.

“Let me check the listing.” Anita is sitting at the kitchen counter and gets out her tablet computer and looks some things up.  “Looks like they’re asking four-hundred thousand.”

“I think we can swing that.” Dean lets go of Sam’s hand and moves it up to his wrist, pressing gently on the bandage again and looks up at Sam with the unstated question in his eyes, _you wanna?_

Sam nods slightly at Dean and says to Anita. “Yeah, let’s do it. Can you put in whatever the lowest offer we could get away with for us today?”

“Sure, but don’t you guys want to look around at some other places?  There’s a whole lot listed right now in the price-range you gave me,” Anita answers, she’d convinced herself that these two were going to be really hard to please for some reason.

“We like this one,” Sam answers with a simple finality that Anita just nods at, not really believing her luck, this is going to be the easiest commission she’s made all year.  Especially not having to deal with finicky sellers, just a bank holding a foreclosed property they want to get rid of.

Sam and Dean walk out onto the flagstone patio from the kitchen, bumping elbows and shoulders as they walk down closer to the water.

“We’re going to have to pick out curtains and carpet and stuff you know,” Sam says, wondering if it will probably all fall to him to make the choices or if Dean has any inkling about home decorating. Maybe that’s another thing he doesn’t know about his brother along with the wine opening skills, love of boats and knowledge of color theory.

Dean sighs and walks to the edge of the somewhat precarious dock. “Yeah, I know.”

Following him onto the worn wood planks a bit tentatively, Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder in reassurance. “It’ll be okay.”

Dean feels himself lean into Sam’s touch and answers with a distracted. “Uh huh.”

Tightening his hand on Dean’s shoulder, Sam asks with a little more concern than is necessary. “Hey, you alright Dean?”

Dean shrugs off Sam’s hand and walks to the very end of the dock, answering reluctantly, talking down to the restless water that moves beneath their feet. “I’m going to be. Just impatient.”

Seeing that his brother maybe needs a little physical distance, Sam doesn’t follow at first, just raises his voice to be sure that Dean can hear his question. “For what?”

Dean spins around immediately throwing his hands out in a hurried insistent gesture between them and at the house. “This.  Us having this.”

Sam recognizes this frustration and impatience for what it really is, Dean’s feeling stretched at having to talk about his wants and needs and it’s frankly adorable.  He grins and stalks forward, pulling a surprised Dean into his arms. “It’s been a long time coming hasn’t it? I always believed we’d get here somehow.”

Dean can’t answer that, because it’s just what he was thinking.  Through all of it, he’d always let himself believe that at some undetermined point in the future there was going to be a place for them, where they could be together.  He’d never said it to anyone out loud before, and hearing Sam say it like that, means everything.  “You did?”

“Yeah, I did, even when we were apart or fighting or whatever, I just had to keep believing that we’d end up somewhere together.”

And it seems like a cop-out to Dean, but why bother restating what Sam’s just said, it’s exactly what’s in his heart too. “Me too Sammy.”

~!~!~!

The dock that comes with their property is a little worn, and it will need some repairs to last another season, and Dean sets right in on that, first thing.  Finding all the tools he needs in the well-stocked garage, as well as some wood planks that will work to replace the rotted ones.

“You know we could afford to hire someone to do that right?” Sam asks, skeptical that Dean actually knows what he’s doing.

“Yeah, I know.”

Sam smiles, so glad that Dean’s enjoying playing at being Mr. Fix-it with all the power tools he’d found in the garage. Plus he looks damn fine in that tool belt and sweaty t-shirt, sun glinting on the curve of his biceps.  He can’t help but reach out and touch before he leaves. “Well, don’t make it worse.  I’m going to turn-over the soil in the garden.  There’s just a few weeks left to get a garden in.”

“Just no Brussels Sprouts okay?” Dean looks up at him, squinting in the sun.

“Fine, they don’t really grow well here anyways,” Sam answers.

“Since when are you a gardening expert?” Dean asks with a laugh.

“Hmm, guess since I learned how to Google,” Sam shrugs.

“You’ve found out my secret, that’s where I learned all this,” Dean says, extending a hand out and gesturing at all the construction debris they’re standing in.

“Think Bobby would be happy with us getting off the road for a while and sticking around here?” Sam asks, pulling Dean in close to him so that Dean can’t see the sappy expression on his face and tease him.

“Yeah, he’d be glad we were in one place for a while, and that we’ll have a safe place to come back to now,” Dean answers, squashed up against Sam’s neck.

“That’s home isn’t it?” Sam muses, not really expecting an answer.

“We always had a home, she’s parked in the garage right now, but this place, is what we’ve needed for a long time,” Dean says, pulling Sam down to him for a kiss, outside, under the sun, on their dock, in front of their home.

“I always hoped we’d get this at some point. But now that it’s happened, it’s hard to believe it’s real,” Sam says into Dean’s hair.

Dean grabs Sam’s wrist and pushes on the tattoo. “Believe it Sammy, you’re stuck with me, and a mortgage to boot.”

Sam looks down at Dean’s thumb pressing the skin to white in the center of his tattoo, and feels that red heat that’s still wrapped around his heart pulse strongly. “Guess I like being stuck. Wish Bobby could see this place.”

“He’d be bossing me around about doing this dock repair differently that’s for sure, but yeah, I would love to hear one more idjit you know?” Dean says, letting go of Sam’s wrist and looking out over the water, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears he can feel threatening.

“I do, I really do Dean. We’re honoring his memory by doing what he asked us to in those letters he wrote to us. Making a plan for our future and everything.”

“I can’t believe we have to have a financial advisor now.” Dean says.

“Well, the lawyer was right, with this much money we don’t want to screw up and lose it.”

“Quite the inheritance huh?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. A helluva lot more than just money though.” Sam answers.

“He asked me one time what I pictured I’d be doing in five years.”

“What did you say?” Sam asks.

“That I’d be somewhere with you, but beyond that I wasn’t sure,” Dean answers, smiling at the memory of Bobby’s not-at-all-surprised expression.

“What did he say?” Sam asks.

Dean clears his throat to make his voice sound like gruff Bobby growl. “Boy, you better start plannin’ on a future, Sam and you are gonna be around for a long time, and it won’t all be hunting after a while.”

“Huh. Who knew Bobby was practically a fortune-teller?” Sam laughs.          

~~~~!~~

“Dock’s done. Want to take the boat out?” Dean yells up the hill, hoping Sam will hear him in the garden.

“Yeah, be there in a second,” Sam calls back.

Dean hopes that he’ll bring some cold beers from the house, he’s feeling too lazy to go up the hill and back again, instead he hops into their small boat and starts up the engine.  It coughs to life, rough at first, evening out as Dean adjusts the choke. The boat dips and sways as Sam steps in, sitting down on the bench across from Dean.

Sam hands him a long-neck, with the top popped off.  Dean takes a long swallow before casting off and pushing away from the dock.  They’re silent on the way out through the small water-ways, just watching the birds in the reeds on shore, enjoying the afternoon sun. Dean shifts to the left side of his bench with his right arm over the back of it, other hand on the steering rod. Sam gets the idea right away and moves over to sit beside him, slumping down so he can fit, tucked into the curve of Dean’s arm. Sam finishes his beer and tosses it towards the front of the boat into the plastic bail bucket. He reaches up with both hands and holds Dean’s right wrist, thumbs moving ceaselessly over the tattoo. Sam leans down and kisses Dean in the center of it, pouring his thanks for all of it, into that one spot on Dean’s body where he knows Dean will always accept it now.

Dean sighs at the feel of Sam’s warm lips and breath on his wrist, Sam’s hair tickling his bare arm, the utter perfectness of this moment. The only sounds the outboard motor, the water slapping the sides of their boat, and the wind in the trees on shore.

Sam lays his head on Dean’s shoulder and closes his eyes, listening to the silence, what’s not being said when he feels Dean’s lips kiss the top of his head, _this is safe, this is good, this is home, this is us_.

~FIN~

 


End file.
